


In My Sights

by Unavis



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers Family, Clueless Peter, Clueless Tony, Drama, Fluff, M/M, Minor Action, No underage, Peter Identity Reveal, Peter is Nineteen, Peter's First Time Meeting the Avengers, Post-Endgame, Romance, Slow Burn, Tony is Early Fourties, Underage Drinking, Will add more tags as more chapters are completed, no one died
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-09-26 17:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 52,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20393608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unavis/pseuds/Unavis
Summary: It takes one dart in Steve Roger's neck for Tony to realize that even though they'd saved the world, even though Thanos was gone and balance was restored, there was always going to be someone after them. They're on lockdown in Stark Tower until they can figure out a way of leaving without putting themselves at risk.Their savior comes in the form of the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, unconscious and holding an almost-full sample of the serum that's been keeping them locked away. When Peter Parker wakes up in Stark Tower, he's surrounded by his idols and told he's got no choice but to remain there until a solution has been found. A few days ago, it'd have sounded like a dream. But one thing leads to another and very, very slowly, Peter's comfortable life splinters and cracks, until finally, he's broken enough to be an Avenger.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So for the sake of this fic, I've messed around with D.O.B's and all sorts, so Peter is 19, Tony is 41-42. Just wanted to shimmy the age difference a bit, since I'm a little uncomfortable with writing anything underage.
> 
> I've already written a bunch of chapters for this and am writing more everyday, so updates will be regular and often! Please share any comments about errors, plotholes, any tags I can add to the story, etc.
> 
> Also, this is un-betaed so grammar errors might be in abundance, sorrryyy.
> 
> PS: Please excuse my absolute awful writing when it comes to the science side of things. Why I decided to write a fic heavily involved in science, I don't know. pls forgiv

Peter tears off his rubber gloves with a snap and dumps them into the trash can beside him, wrinkling his nose at the tackiness left behind on his fingers. Recently washed petri dishes are stacked up on the counter in front of him. He lets out a quiet sigh.

When he left high school and managed to jump straight into a job at Little Corporation, he hadn’t exactly expected to be rubbing his gloved hands across various gross substances stuck to petri dishes. Spell-checking reports, signing off on substance request forms, posting mail, cleaning the work surfaces - his responsibilities were as far down the bottom of the ladder you could get at a rapidly growing business.

As mind numbing as it was, at least his extracurricular activities kept his mind from turning to mush.

“You headin’ out?”

Peter takes his sad eyes away from the petri dishes to look at his friend and sort-of coworker, Saul. If anything had been his lifeline at Little Corp, it was the people who worked around him. He works in a tiny department, on the bottom floor of the building, with two other people and their boss, who kept himself tucked away in the office and barely emerged. Saul and Kate were brother and sister and in the year that Peter had worked there he’d really clicked with Saul, despite his aloof and uncaring nature. Kate, while he liked to think they were friends, barely spoke, but Peter was always on the receiving end of her tiny smiles so he knew there was a little bit of affection there.

“Yeah, gotta rest these hands so I can be in top shape tomorrow.” Peter wiggles his fingers.

Saul snorts. “Won’t be long, Parker. We all gotta start somewhere.”

“Only way is up!” Peter replies overenthusiastically as he passes Saul, slapping him on the back and pulling his backpack over shoulder, “Catch you tomorrow, bud.”

“Bye,” Kate says, almost too quietly for Peter to hear as he passes. He grins at her and raises a hand. He doesn’t even spare a glance at their boss’s closed door before he exits their dimly lit lab, emerging into a corridor that sends bursting light into his eyes.

His heart thuds faster and faster as he gets closer to the large lobby, swerving in between all of the scientists and technicians that passed him. _ He's almost free. _

When he opens the door and the hot summer air hits him, he breathes it all in, letting out a relieved smile. Then with a hop in his step, he takes off round the corner of the building into a little alcove he’d discovered on his first day of work. He pulls off his clothes, revealing a full body suit underneath and yanks a mask out of the secret compartment in his bag, tugging it over his face. One smack to the middle of his chest causes the suit to retract, fitting to every bump and line on his body. With a loud whoop, he shoots a web to the corner of Little Corp’s building and pulls himself through the air.

And his evening has begun.

-x-

“Sup, freakishly short adult male!” 

Tony Stark jerks his head up from where it had been resting on the back of his lab chair, dazed and confused. He blinks the sleep from his eyes. He doesn’t remember drifting off. His glasses are skewed on his face and he adjusts them quickly, looking around in panic at the voice he’s certain he’d heard. He glances at his monitor and sees a small group of people crowding into his lobby. He leaps out of his chair in a rush, readjusting his clothes as he runs to his elevator, smashing the button for the floor below.

When the doors open, he’s greeted by a branch narrowly missing his nose. 

“Keep your branches to yourself, sprout,” Tony maneuvers his way past Groot to the rest of the posse that has spread out over the lounge. “Not that I don’t love the company - and actually, I don’t - but what brings you to my humble abode?” 

Rocket and Nebula are stretched out on the sofas, Rocket guzzling down a can of beer that he’s pinched from the kitchen. He crunches it in his tiny paws with ease and throws it across the room, missing the trash can by miles. He doesn’t get up to retrieve it.

“Was passing through and thought we’d drop in and see if your planet was still in one piece. Everything seems a-okay,” Rocket replies, reaching his tiny arms above his head in a tired stretch. Tony looks at Nebula to confirm.

“Quill and Gamora removed us from the ship and took off. The rat was invading their privacy and they were getting irritable. They’ve gone on ‘vacation’. Earth was the closest planet we could inhabit.”

“I know that somewhere in that head full of nuts and bolts there’s a part of you that knows when to lie and you’re choosing not to, just to spite me,” Rocket retorts. The corner of Nebula’s lips twitch upwards for a second.

Tony runs a hand over his face. “Fine, whatever, okay, you can stay here for a few days but then you’re packing up your space-y weirdness and going to the compound.” He turns to walk away but hesitates and turns back round, “And for the sake of Earth’s sanity, please, _ please _do not leave the Tower like that.” He gestures to their clothes and general appearance.

Nebula, Rocket and Groot looks down at themselves in confusion.

“You insultin’ my sense of style, Stark?”

“You’re a talking raccoon. She’s a blue bald lady and he,” Tony jabs a thumb at Groot, “Is a thing.”

“I promise I’ll rummage through a few dumpsters when I go outside, for the sake of authenticity.” Rocket shoots him a grin.

“Great.” Tony turns to go back into the elevator when an alarm that he _ never _wanted to hear again rings through the Tower. He double taps on the side of his glasses, heart pounding loudly in his chest.

“Who?” 

_ “Steve Rogers. The mediship is on its way to you now, sir. ETA five minutes.” _

“Incident report.”

_ “Nothing so far. Romanoff is with him.” _He lets out a shaky sigh, pulls his glasses off of his head and rubs a hand over his face before putting them back on. When he turns back to his guests, they’re all on their feet and staring at him with a battle-ready intensity.

“At ease, aliens. No war to fight.” _ Yet. _

“Who?” Nebula asks and if Tony imagines a tiny hitch of worry in her voice, he pretends not to notice.

“Steve, no word on why yet.”

The heavy silence that fills the room creates an entirely different atmosphere to what it had been moments before. Tony throws himself down onto the couch and stares at an empty spot on the vast white walls, flinching slightly when the raccoon next to him kicks the coffee table.

“That purple jackass is particles somewhere in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere and our people are still getting whacked,” Rocket huffs.

“Cut off one head and two take its place,” Tony mutters, more to himself than to Rocket.

_ “They’ve arrived, sir.” _Tony jumps to his feet and takes off towards the elevator. The ride up in the elevator is short and the doors open just as Steve flies by on a stretcher, Natasha at his side and two doctors stringing up bags as they ran. Tony chases after them, but the stretcher and the two doctors disappear behind two frosted glass doors, leaving him and Natasha in an empty corridor. 

Tony swings round to glare at Natasha.

“What the _ hell _happened, Romanoff?” Tony asks, more bite in his voice than intended. Her stern eyes flicker between his.

“Don’t you _ dare _ start blaming me for this, Tony. You think this was a mission-related incident?” She gestures down to her outfit and it’s the first time Tony notices she’s in a red cardigan and jeans get-up. “We were shopping a couple of blocks away, there’s _ no _ way we were recognised. One minute we’re talking about lunch and the next...” She holds up a dart-syringe hybrid, “This is sticking out of Roger’s neck and he’s... _ dying.” _ She flips around and smacks her fist into the white wall, leaving behind a tiny spatter of blood. Her hands push on the wall, head sunk down between her arms, and she breathes heavy.

Tony blinks, coming back to himself. “Is he…”

“I don’t know. I don’t know, just-- “She flips back around to him. “Instead of asking me questions I don’t know the answer to, go and do your thing and test what was in this.” She places the dart into Tony’s hand and curls his fingers around it. She looks at him carefully. “Be quick.”

Tony nods and gives her a two-fingered salute, stepping back into the elevator.

-x-

Peter shoots out a web and swings himself up onto his favourite perch, an apartment building roof garden. He sits down and hangs his legs over the edge, staring out into the vast city. The flashing billboards and low rumbling of traffic beneath him is soothing and he leans back on his arms, staring at the building that stands out amongst them all in the distance.

Stark Tower, lit up, a beacon in the middle of New York. The same bittersweet feeling pulls at his gut and he smiles underneath his mask. 

Some part of him always thought that he’d end up there one day, having coffee over a kitchen counter with Steve Rogers or working on a new web formula with Bruce Banner. But it’d been years since he’d been bitten, years since he’d become the friendly neighborhood Spiderman. He’d taken down a couple of big fish, but none of his work seemed to grab any kind of attention.

Not that he’d done it for that. He did it because he _ had _ to. He just thought that maybe, just _ maybe… _

He hears shouting below him and sees a man attempting to pull a purse away from an elderly, frail woman. He lets out a breath, stands to his feet, and backflips off of the building.

-x-

Three days have passed and Steve still hasn’t woken up.

“Whoever did this intended to kill. You’re lucky they went for Rogers and none of the others. If this happens again, I’ve got no doubt it’ll be a kill shot.” Doctor Yen tells Tony, her bluntness making him grimace. It's why she's the best, though. No bullshit.

He’s still in his lab, staring up at the formula in front of him. He hadn’t been able to do it. Whatever was in the dart had left nothing but a speck and that speck had piledrived his system, pages upon pages of formula showing. There was no way he was going to be able to get through it all, let alone find some sort of clue towards what the hell it was that was currently running through the veins of one of his best friends.

“Your face looks nasty,” He hears Rocket say next to him. He hadn’t even noticed him turn up. Rocket’s eyes notice the garbled mess on the screen in front of him. “That looks even nastier.”

“I don’t know what it is,” Tony says quietly, like he’s hoping no one else will hear him. “And it’s going to take four of my lifetimes to figure it out.”

“So not long then,” Rocket grins up at him. Tony snorts and nods his head at the screen.

“Got any weird alien mojo in that furry head of yours that can help with this?”

Rocket laughs. “Give me a wrench, I’ll take your flashy contraption apart in seconds and put it back together in the shape of Quill’s dick. But that?” He shakes his head.

There’s a knock at the door of his lab and Bruce enters, sending Tony a small, sad smile. 

“Hey, Tony.”

“How’s it hangin’, Brucie,” Tony replies, not hiding the lack of joviality his tone usually holds. “Any luck on your end?”

“That’s why I’m here.” He nods in passing at Rocket and takes a seat next to Tony, looking up at the screen. “I can’t tell you what it is, what it’s made of or where it came from but I can tell you one thing.” His eyes dart to the right, connecting with Tony’s. “It’s not good. It’s lethal to us -- any of us. Even Cap. My guess is whoever made it hasn’t perfected the formula yet. Cap was the test run. Next time--”

“--It’ll be a kill shot, yeah, I got it.” Tony swipes his hand through the air and sends the long stream of nonsense out of their sight. 

“Bad time to take a little ‘vacay’ to planet Earth,” Rocket grumbles and shakes his head as he walks out of the lab, leaving Bruce and Tony alone. They sit in silence, taking in their situation.

“Tone, you know what this means?” Bruce says quietly. 

Tony swallows and nods. “Friday?” 

“_ Yes, sir?” _

“Activate Purple initiative.” 

The entire building starts to tremble, cogs turning deep inside the walls, until the Tower stills and the silence feels heavier somehow. Tony rises from his seat.

“No one comes in, no one goes out. We’re not risking it. We don’t know how strong those darts are, they could pierce armor, maybe even give your big guy a nasty pinch.” Bruce nods and rises from his seat too.

“We should go and tell the crew.”

-x-

“You release it into the ocean and pow,” Saul makes a gesture with his hands, “the spores spread out and start eating the plastic, bit by bit, until the oceans are back to their natural order.” 

Peter grins at him. “Yeah? Man, that’s _ awesome _. All that in a tiny little jar?”

Saul shrugs and puts the container in front of Peter. “Would have been awesome.”

Peter’s grin falters. “What? He denied you? Again?” 

Saul puts his arms behind his head and leans back on the chair, closing his eyes and letting out a yawn. “Yeah, it’s whatever. Must have been a reason.”

“He didn’t even tell you why?”

Saul shakes his head, but his enthusiasm for his little project has quickly dissipated and he’s fallen asleep. 

But Peter’s still thinking. He lifts his head and glares at the closed door on the other side of the lab. Mr Diaz hasn’t accepted one of Saul or Kate’s projects in the whole time he’d worked there. Not one. Suddenly, the door that Peter's staring so vehemently at opens and Mr Diaz emerges stiffly, coffee mug in his hand. Peter’s eyes follow him across the lab over to the kitchen and after swallowing down the lump in his throat for the third time, he makes a decision.

He slides off of his stool, swipes Saul’s jar off the counter and heads over to him. Either Mr Diaz decides to blissfully ignore him while he waits for his coffee to pour, or he hasn’t realised his presence yet.

Peter’s stomach flutters with nerves, having never stood so close to the person he’d been working for for over a year. Up close, Mr Diaz’s skin was smooth, scruffy facial hair dark in contrast to his olive skin. His hair was product-free, yet was perfectly ruffled, fringe falling just above the square, black glasses on his nose. He couldn’t have been less than ten years older than Peter himself.

It takes Peter a while to realise that he’s staring instead of attempting to capture his attention, so he lets out a gentle cough and Mr Diaz looks at him, taking his coffee cup out of the steaming machine.

“Yes?”

Peter opens his mouth and closes it again. He hadn’t really thought past the point of approaching him. 

“I-”

“Either you get to the point, or I’m leaving.” Peter frowns and quickly pushes his hand out, showing Mr Diaz the jar grasped tightly in his hand. 

“Why?”

Mr Diaz’s lips actually seem to twitch upwards into an almost-smile, but when Peter blinks, it’s gone. 

“Why what, Mr Parker?”

“Saul’s been working on this for months, sir. Why turn it down?” 

Mr Diaz takes the jar from Peter, fingers brushing his. “Mr Parker, did you look at the compound sheet for this?”

Peter clenches his jaw. “I skimmed it, yeah.”

Mr Diaz leans forwards and Peter considers taking a step back but stands his ground, eyes roaming over his boss’s face. Mr Diaz’s lips quirk upwards into a smirk.

“I suggest,” he whispers into Peter’s face, “You look again.” 

And then he’s gone, leaving Peter in the kitchen with his arm still outstretched, and Peter can’t bring himself to move.

-x-

He can’t believe it. He’d missed it on his first read, having no doubts in Saul’s capabilities of designing and executing exactly what he’d been intending to. But it’s there.

Saul’s bent over a counter, ponytail tied at the nape of his neck, goggles on. Kate’s tapping away at her laptop, eyes wide and focused. Hoping they won’t miss his disappearance, he slips away towards Mr Diaz’s door and knocks gently twice before entering. 

He’s never been in his office before, but it’s exactly what he’d been expecting. Bookshelves, a large wooden desk, a tiny counter with vials and specimens, a coat hook with a plain white lab coat hanging from one of the ornate hooks. His eyes fall on Mr Diaz, who’s looking up at him expectantly.

“Yes?” 

“I took it home last night. Read it again. And I--” Peter swallows. “I-I’m sorry. You were right. If you’d approved this, if this had been put into the ocean, all of the plant life and corals…” He lets out a huff, smiling to himself over his own lack of trust. “They’d be dead in fifty years.”

Mr Diaz looks up at him from his desk with bright eyes, that little smirk dancing around his lips again. 

“Well done, Mr Parker.” Peter can’t help it if he straightens a little at the praise. Mr Diaz leans back in his chair and gestures towards an empty seat opposite him. Peter rushes to sit. “I have a question.”

Peter’s eyes widen in surprise, but he nods. Mr Diaz leans forwards. “What are you doing here?”

“Sorry, sir?”

“Here. Little Corp. In this lab, cleaning and filing. Saul has been working here for five years and you spotted in an evening what he missed over a hundred checks. So I’ll ask again… Why are you here?”

Peter swallows, running a hand through his windswept hair. He misses the way Mr Diaz tracks the movement. “You gotta start somewhere.”

Mr Diaz huffs a laugh and looks down at his desk. When he looks back up at Peter, his eyes are glittering.

“Maybe we should just change where you start, then.”

-x-

Peter’s feeling amazing. He’s flying through the air, suit on, stomach filled with hope and excitement and for the first time in a long time, he’s starting to feel faith. In himself.

He’s on his way to Ned and MJ’s, well overdue for a movie night and a catch-up session. They had a shared apartment round the block from their old high school, but were hardly there, since college was a luxury they were able to afford. 

_ One day, Peter, _ he tells himself, imagining the hustle and bustle of college students and those long, long lectures--

Something whistles past his ear. He almost loses his web, hurriedly swinging his other arm around and attaching himself to the side of a nearby building. He hops down onto a balcony, looking around. _ What was that? _

His arm moves before he even registers that it’s doing it. He hisses when the skin on his thigh is pierced by something sharp, but he’s pulling out the object before it can insert itself completely and opening his palm to examine it.

It’s a dart, filled with some sort of amber liquid. _ And some of it is missing. _

He can feel it. It’s spreading through his leg, burning _ hot _and he panics, Peter stands there and panics, wastes precious time, and before he knows it, he’s back to flying through the city, launching himself further and further as his vision starts to fade. The beacon of New York is right in front of him and even though his bones start to feel weak and his muscles start to feel like they’re on fire, he lifts an arm and shoots at the ‘S’. He’s delirious, he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but it’s the only thing his half-functioning mind can think of and then he’s launching himself higher and higher, soaring through the air, and then his everything goes black.

-x-

“_ Intruder detected.” _

Tony scrambles to his feet from the floor, Nebula joining him quickly, their game of cards forgotten. 

“What?”

“Someone’s here.” Tony sticks his arms out and his suit assembles itself around him, though he forgoes the helmet. “Friday, where?”

“_ Top floor, helipad.” _

Tony takes off running to the elevator and doesn’t hide his surprise when Nebula follows him inside. She gives him a curt nod. _ I’ve got your back, _it says. Tony throws her a quick smile before bending down and typing the override code into the elevator. He presses the top floor button and holds his breath.

The doors open and he’s hit with a breath of fresh air, which is almost a huge relief, having been cooped up in the tower for a week. But there’s no time to savour it. He looks around quickly, on his guard, waiting for an assault or aliens or gunshots or _ something-- _

“Tony.” He turns to Nebula, who's pointing at a splotchy red and blue body in the centre of his helipad. He uses his thrusters to launch himself forwards and falls to his knees at the person's side. He rolls them over and sucks in a breath.

It’s the spider-guy - he’d only heard about him in passing, been asked a few questions about whether he was affiliated with them. 

The sun glints off of an object in his hand. There, lying in the open palm of Spiderman, is an almost-full dart. Exactly the same as the one that had shot Steve.

“Friday, alert medical, I’m coming down.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Nebula asks as she walks up beside him. She gazes down at the unconscious masked hero. “Must you all wear such ridiculous suits?”

Tony lets out a huff of laughter, despite the situation, and pulls the dart from the gloved hand. 

“Take this to Banner, I got the spider-boy.” Nebula leaves and Tony looks down at the body in front of him. He eyes up the mask. “Sorry about the invasion of privacy and all that, but you need to breathe.” And he pulls it off.

His heart stops for a second. Man, it’s just a _ kid. _Slightly curly, sweaty, brown locks stuck to his glistening forehead and he almost looks like he could be asleep, if it wasn’t for the rapid rise and fall of his chest and sickly sheen of sweat across his entire face. 

Tony hauls him easily into his arms and carries him inside.

-x-

Peter clenches his closed eyes and he wonders how much he must have drunk with MJ and Ned to feel this _ awful. _It takes about thirty seconds of moaning quietly under his breath before he realises the room he’s in smells different. New.

His eyes snap open and he throws himself upright, looking around wildly for danger. The room spins and he slumps backwards again, screwing his eyes shut and grabbing at his head. He freezes. _ No mask. _

“So, Mr Parker, mind telling me what you were doing on my helipad?”

This is it, it's over. He’s been found out. _ Years. _ He’s kept his identity secret for years. May was going to kill him. Ned and MJ were going to hate him. 

“Whoa, whoa, cool it kid, cool it.” The voice that had spoken to him earlier gets closer and he realises that he’s breathing heavily, panic hard in his chest, sucking in oxygen. “It’s fine, it’s all fine, you’re safe.”

There’s something about the authoritative tone in the strangers voice that calms him and his breathing evens out. He sits with his eyes still closed for a moment, trying to remember what had happened.

The whistle. The balcony. The dart. He tries harder. He remembers the fire in his body, the weakness of his muscles as he ran towards something. A bright light, brighter than anything else in the city. _ Stark Tower. _

He opens his eyes and looks straight at Tony Stark.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony watches as the kid in front of him just gapes, which is not a reaction Tony is unfamiliar with. He gives him a minute to gather his wits.

“I-” He croaks. “I’m Peter Parker.”

Tony snorts. “Yeah, brains, got that already. Didn’t become a billionaire from pole-dancing now, did I? I can search up anyone in the city with a kindergarten drawing.”

Peter’s finally managed to close his mouth, but his eyes are still as wide as saucers, skin white as a sheet. The humor of the situation evaporates and Tony frowns.

“You should really be getting some rest, kid. You only got a little dose of the serum but I don’t know how lethal it is to a boring old John Smith.”

Peter blinks at him twice and frowns a little. “Mr- Mr Stark, I’m not a ‘John Smith’.”

Tony raises his eyebrows, eyes scanning Peter from head to toe. He double taps the side of his glasses. “Friday, scan Mr Parker.”

Before Peter can open his mouth to protest, a blue ray bursts out from the ceiling and runs over the surface of his entire body. Tony turns around to a nearby computer panel and swipes his hand through a bunch of screens, listing all of Peter’s vitals and _ extras. _Accelerated healing, resistance to poisons, increased hearing and impeccable senses. Tony hates the thrilling rush of scientific intrigue that shoots up his spine.

“No, no you’re not, my mistake.” Tony turns back to look at Peter, whose tensed up again, now that his attention has returned to him. “So tell me, Spidey, how’d you do it? Little lab experiment gone wrong? Alien? Super serum?”

The references to his questions aren’t lost on Peter and for the first time since he’s woken up, Peter actually smiles. “Radioactive spider. Complete accident.”

It’s Tony’s turn for his mouth to fall open, but it’s only for a second, before he regains his composure and lets out a little laugh. “Well, I’m sure Banner’s going to _ love _that story.” Peter’s eyes light up in excitement, but when he opens his mouth to talk, Tony holds up a finger. “Questions later, mine are far more important.” He moves to sit beside Peter on the bed and doesn’t miss the way Peter stiffens. “Who shot at you?”

Peter seems to forget about his little star-struck tizzy and frowns at Tony before looking down at his hands. He fiddles with the bed sheet. 

“I don’t know, Mr Stark.”

Tony lets out a sigh and pats Peter on the arm. “It’s all good, champ. You got us a pretty big sample of that serum to work with now, we’ve got a better chance of figuring out how to beat this thing.”

Tony gets up to leave.

“Sir?” The title stuns him still for a moment. _ Sir? _ He schools his amused grin and twists round to face Peter. “What’s going on? Has this happened before?”

Tony realises he’s not exactly explained the situation, but he’s got to get back to the lab and help Bruce with the new sample. He sighs. “One of us was already hit with one, took him down pretty hard, but he’ll be okay. No guessing how much the serem’s going to change between that and the next, though. So, Stark Tower’s on lockdown. We’re all stuck here in one big, messed up slumber party.”

Peter’s eyes widen and his throat bobs as he swallows. “‘Lockdown?’ Does that…”

“Yeah, kid, sorry. That means you too.”

“No. No, no no no no.” Tony’s eyebrows rise in surprise at his quick rejection. Peter quickly realises he’s not making any sense. “Mr Stark, sir, my aunt, she doesn’t know about me, I have a job that’s _ just _starting to go well, I can’t stay here! I need to--” Peter pulls off the duvet and goes to hop off of the bed, ripping the IV out of his arm. Tony’s stunned at his insistence to leave. “It’s been great, sir, but I need to--”

And then he’s putting all of his weight on his feet and they can’t handle it. He crumples to the floor.

Tony launches forwards and grabs him, Peter’s hands coming up to grasp tightly at his bicep and the front of his shirt. The breath is completely knocked out of him and he’d barely taken a step.

“I don’t think you’re going anywhere, kid,” Tony mutters into his ear. He watches it redden before Peter pulls away quickly, falling backwards onto the bed, breath still lost. He helps him settle back onto the mattress chucking the blanket over him. “What’s going on outside of this tower is not important right now. You want to live, go back to spinning webs and doing whatever it is you do? Sit, get better, don’t die.” Tony takes a few steps away from the bed and watches Peter look at him, worry and fear in his eyes. God, he was useless in situations like this. 

Luckily he had an ace up his sleeve.

“Look, Mr Parker, silver lining?” He grabs the curtain separating Peter’s bed from the one next to him and pulls it open. Steve Rogers looks up from his book and throws Peter a one fingered salute. Tony smirks. “You won’t be alone.”

And then he pushes the button and exits the medical bay, leaving behind a gawking, speechless Peter.

-x-

Peter pulls on the t-shirt that has been placed at the end of his bed, discarding the hospital gown beside him, and pulls on some underwear and pants. They were a little big, but he’d have to make do. His hands still held a slight tremble that he knew had nothing to do with whatever mysterious serum had been running through his veins.

Of all the times he’d dreamt of coming face to face with Tony Stark - or any of the world’s mightiest heroes - he never thought he’d be unconscious on their first meeting. Or to be on complete lockdown in the building he swung past every night.

He picks up the phone that sat on his bedside table. _ ‘A present from Tony Stark,’ _ the doctor had said. He twirls the phone around in his fingers with dexterity before letting out a huge sigh.

“You doing okay, kid?” He hears Steve’s voice call from the other side of the curtain. It annoys Peter that he just can’t seem to calm his stupid, stupid nerves.

“I’m fine, thank you, sir.” 

“No need for the ‘sir’, just Steve is fine.” Peter smiles and before he can back out, he opens up an app on the phone and sends off two messages to his aunt and to Saul. He’ll ring Ned and MJ later.

Both of them included something along the lines of having to attend an internship at Stark Tower. He’d made out he’d kept his application on the down low. It was flimsy at best, but having a grain of truth in a lie made it more believable.

He sits quietly, deep in thought, before getting to his feet and walking around the curtain to see Steve Rogers bent over, pulling a pair of shoes on. Steve looks at him expectantly, tying up his lace.

“You ever have to lie to the people you love to keep them safe, Mr Rogers?” 

Steve straightens up and just sits and stares at him for a few seconds, then pats on the bed next to him. Peter obeys and the bed creaks a little as he takes a seat next to _ Captain America. _

“Kid, sometimes you’ve got to weigh it up. If you think it’ll make their life easier to know the truth, then you’re holding them back. If it makes things harder on them?” Steve shrugs, “A little lie to keep them happy won’t hurt.”

Peter looks up at one of his childhood heroes and when his brain finally stops processing what was said to him, he smiles, feeling just that little bit lighter.

“Okay. Thanks, sir-- Mr Rogers.” 

Steve claps him on the back as he stands up, giving his shoulder a little squeeze before brushing past his legs and leaving the medical bay. Peter hides his smile in his lap for a moment, then pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials MJ. He switches to video call.

“Hello? Peter? Oh my God, Ned! Ned! Get in here, seems Parker’s managed to get some time off of his busy, busy schedule to contact us!” Peter laughs at MJ’s sarcasm. Ned stumbles into view on the video and visibly sags. Then stiffens again.

“Peter? What the hell, man?! You tell us you’re coming over and then go MIA for two days?!”

Peter smiles apologetically. “Sorry, guys, I had to--”

“Is this anything to do with you being Spiderman? Is someone after you? Because I’ll mess them up, Peter, I don’t need no fancy web to smack some dickbag round the head--” MJ goes quiet at the look on Peter’s face. Raises her eyebrows when she sees Ned’s face. “Oh, come on. Really? Peter, you seriously need a lesson on being covert and Ned? For a smart guy, you can be a real dumbass.”

“M-MJ, I don’t know what you’re--”

“Save it for someone who’ll listen, Parker. Now, is someone after you? Do I need to go and get my dads shotgun--”

“Oh my God, no, no, MJ, I’m fine. I’m at Stark Tower, had a little problem but I’m dealing with it.” He pointedly ignores Ned’s squeak and decides to focus on MJ. She’s watching him carefully, as if waiting for him to elaborate. When he doesn’t she lets out a sigh, not taking her eyes off of Peter, and swiftly slaps Ned around the back of the head next to her to snap him out of his trance.

“Peter?” He says in a quiet voice. Peter’s heart sinks at the crestfallen sound in Ned’s voice. This was what he didn’t want, he didn’t want his friends to think he was some kind of freak, or-- “Peter, you’re _ Spiderman. The _Spiderman. And you’re at Stark Tower? That’s… amazing!! How-- Have you met any-- How?”

Peter almost sags with relief. Ned fires off question after question, not even giving Peter a chance to answer in between them all. MJ has her eyes on Peter the entire time.

“You’re okay, right Peter?” She asks softly over the blur of Ned’s questions. Peter swallows and nods, eyes stinging a little at her concern. _ God, he was so, so lucky to have them as his friends. _

“It was a close call, but I came straight to Stark Tower after I got hit with this weird, dart thingy and when I woke up, Mr Stark was there and he--”

“You met Iron Man?” Ned looks like he’s about to faint. Despite the seriousness of the story, Peter throws him a huge, wobbly grin. 

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly, “Yeah I did and he’s even cooler in person. I also had some company in the med bay. Steve Rogers was the first target, so he was healing up next to me--” Peter laughs at Ned’s overdramatics when he grabs MJ’s shoulder as if he needs support to stand.

“Peter, Peter, this has to be the coolest thing to happen to me. My best friend’s a superhero and he’s in the same building as Tony Stark right now--”

“‘First target’?” MJ asks, looking completely done with Ned. Ned goes quiet. 

“There’s someone out there targeting superheroes I guess,” He cringes at having to refer to himself as such, “Mr Stark said the Tower’s on lockdown until they can figure out a vaccine or find the guy who’s doing it.”

“So… you’re stuck there?” MJ asks. Peter nods. “Jesus, Parker.”

“Hey, what better place to be stuck, though?” Peter says, sending them both a smile, though he can’t hide his nervousness. 

“Peter, just… have fun, okay, dude? Just chill out, have a good time and they’ll sort it all out. I mean, jeez, they’ve saved the world like a billion times. I’m sure they can handle this,” Ned says, giving his friend a warm smile. Peter relaxes a little.

“Yeah… Yeah, thanks guys. I gotta go.”

They say their goodbyes and Peter tucks the phone away. He looks up at the frosted glass doors across the room and stands up, jaw set in determination.

For some reason, he feels a lot braver than he did ten minutes ago.

-x-

“He’s a kid?” Natasha asks, throwing another knife effortlessly across the room. She hits the target on the wall right in the center. Tony sips on his coffee beside her and props one elbow over the back of the sofa.

“Nineteen, but yeah, he’s been spidey-boy for a couple of years now. Must have been doing it when he still had homework to run home to every night.”

“Any we haven’t recruited him before, why?”

Tony shrugs. “Never needed to.”

“We might not have needed to, Tony, but don’t you think a fifteen-year-old kid would have needed a little guidance? Someone to look up to?”

“Except we didn’t know he was a kid.”

“Oh, shut it, Tony. If you wanted to find out who he was, you could have done it in a second.” Tony drains the rest of his coffee and glares right back at Natasha, who’s staring at him with accusatory eyes.

“You think anyone in this little club of ours chose to be here? No. I’m not about to drag someone into this mess when they don’t have to be.”

“Except he’s here now and nearly died. So what did ignoring him really achieve?” 

He doesn’t get to reply. There’s a shuffling at the entrance to the lounge and he looks up to see Peter standing there, hands curling nervously around themselves. He’s looking around the room, eyes wide and overwhelmed. When they fall on Tony, they light up.

“Hey, Mr Stark,” he says, almost too quietly for Tony to hear. Tony places his mug on the coffee table in front of him and stands up. 

“How you feelin’ kid?” Peter shrugs, the little smile on his face apparently unable to disappear.

“Can’t complain.”

Natasha pushes past Tony, approaching Peter, oblivious to the way his eyes widen further, apparently previously unaware of her presence. She jerks a hand out to him.

“Natasha--”

“Romanoff, yeah, I know,” Peter lets out a breathless laugh of disbelief and takes her hand. His face is shining. “Wow, you’re-- I mean you’re even prettier in person.”

Tony snorts, but the compliment makes Natasha’s usually-stoic expression brighten. 

“You’re real cute, Parker.” Peter doesn’t seem to know how to respond to that, so just grins at her. Her expression falls again. “I’m sorry, this shouldn’t have happened. You could’ve died.” She sends a glare in Tony’s direction.

“No! No, it’s not your fault. I should have been more careful! I mean, it’s not the first time something like this has happened, I should know better,” Peter stammers, unaware of the box he’d just opened.

“‘Not the first time’?” Natasha asks quietly and Tony’s heart thumps against his chest. Peter looks between the two of them, throat bobbing when he swallows nervously.

“Yeah, I-I’ve had a run-in with a bad dude back in high school, had a pretty close call, but you know, super-healing and all that,” he smiles weakly, “I just sorta laid there until everything was back to normal.”

The silence in the room is deafening. Or Tony’s sure it would be, if he could hear anything but his own heartbeat. Guilt blooms through his chest.

“You laid there,” Natasha repeats slowly. Peter nods.

“Yeah, it was gonna go one of two ways you know. Luckily it went the right way.” The kid is trying to make it seem like its nothing, but the stab of fear at the memory is clear on his face. Natasha nods firmly and then turns, stalking towards Tony. He doesn’t have time to move before she kicks him in the shin and marches back to Peter. She pulls the stunned teen into a hug.

“That shouldn’t have happened. None of that should’ve happened. You should have had back-up.”

Clearly confused by her sudden aggression towards Tony, he just stands still with her arms wrapped around him. Then she pulls away and ruffles his hair before leaving the room. 

Tony’s still rubbing his quickly-bruising shin when Peter approaches him.

“Why did she…”

“Nothing that concerns you, kid.” Tony stands up straight and grips Peter’s shoulder. “You sure you’re feelin’ okay?” Peter nods. “Great, well, since you’re stuck here, I guess we should find something to keep you busy. You want some crayons or something?”

“Actually,” Peter grins at him and what comes out of his mouth next is unexpected, “I really want to see your lab.”

-x-

The door to the lab hisses open and Peter’s throat closes up. It’s everything he dreamed of. 

Before he can stop himself, he’s running around and letting out a stream of sentences he’s sure doesn’t make any sense. 

“That’s the new MK 20 engine, that’s not even available on the market yet-- Oh my God they’re nanobytes, I saw a documentary on them they’re awesome-- That’s a solar thruster! I tried making one of those once--”

“_This _is the spider guy?” 

Peter bites his tongue at the sound of a new, unfamiliar voice. He looks away from the glowing piece of tech and realizes he’s not alone. Tony’s watching him with a look in his eyes he can’t decipher, a smirk on his face.

Peter looks over to the owner of the new voice and notices a furry animal sitting on one of the high stools, feet nowhere near the ground. His mouth falls open.

“That’s a--”

“Raccoon, yeah, if you can figure out a way to shut it up, I’ll consider promoting you to Director of Stark Industries.”

Peter’s still ogling the raccoon when Tony gets whacked in the arm by it. It jumps out of the chair and walks over to Peter, outstretching a paw.

“Nice to meet you, human spider. Rocket.” Peter grabs the paw, closing his mouth finally. Rocket’s grinning slyly, obviously pleased at his ability to silence him. “Ain’t you a little young to be making webs and fighting bad guys?”

“I-I don’t think age is a big deal when there’s people out there doing bad stuff and I can stop it,” Peter replies, looking up at Tony in disbelief, still not entirely comfortable with the idea of talking to an animal. Tony just shrugs in response.

It’s then when Peter notices there’s someone else in the lab too. Bruce Banner pulls himself away from the monitor in front of him and takes off his glasses.

“Hey, Peter. I’m guessing I don’t have to introduce myself, word gets around quick here,” Bruce smiles warmly and approaches him, stretching a hand out.

Now, Peter had been absolutely thrilled to meet Tony Stark - just as anyone else would be - but Bruce Banner stood in front of him. The guy he’d been dying to meet since his interest in biochem and engineering started, the guy whose articles he read whenever he had a chance, the guy whose existence alone helped him process his spider bite and swift change in his life. Embarrassingly, he feels his eyes start to sting and his hand trembles when he rises it to grasp his idols hand.

“I-It’s such an honor, I mean it, _ such _an honor, sir. You’re the reason I do what I do, you taught me to do a good thing out of a bad situation, it’s- you’re such an inspiration to me.” Peter forces himself to close his mouth, lest he embarrass himself any further.

Bruce’s eyes are a bit more watery than they’d been before he’d said anything, but Peter doesn’t realise. 

“Me?” He asks Peter quietly, unable to hide the disbelief in his voice. Peter nods quickly and releases his hand, realising he’d been gripping it a bit too tightly. Bruce lets out a breath he’d been holding and when he smiles at Peter, this time there’s so much more warmth, so much more happiness. “Excuse me.” He quickly departs, leaving Peter standing there dumbly, confused at his quick exit. He doesn’t notice Tony approach him, or the heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Kid, I think you just knocked about ten years of self-loathing off of Brucie’s life.”

“Maybe you guys have the right idea, becoming your planets mightiest heroes and all that,” Rocket quips, twirling a wrench around in his paws. “I could do with a little ego boost.”

“No. No, that’s the last thing you need.”

“Speak for yourself, Stark, you suck it up like a sponge.”

They banter while Peter stands there, staring at his hand and just like that, the situation he’s been put in so abruptly seems more like a blessing than a curse.


	3. Chapter 3

If Tony notices Bruce’s eyes are a bit redder than usual when he sees him again, he doesn’t mention it.

“That kid--” Bruce’s voice gets caught in his throat and he sits down opposite Tony, Nat and Steve in the lounge. He doesn’t finish his sentence.

“Yeah,” Steve and Nat agree. They all sit quietly, thinking about their new addition. Tony decides to break the silence.

“We got a lead on the serum.”

Nat and Steve look up in surprise. “And?”

Tony shrugs. “Not much of a lead, Brucie’s been working his ass off to make a vaccine. We got one ready, but we have to prick a live specimen with the serum to test it and I’m not letting any of you take that risk.”

“I’ll do it,” Steve says without hesitation and stands up. Nat’s standing up too. 

“No, I will.”

“It makes sense that I do it, the big guy won’t let anything happen to me--”

“No,” Tony shakes his head and leans back, “Not happening.”

“Tony, we can’t stay in the Tower forever, I’ve got missions to do, the Guardians need to get back out there--”

“Rogers, I get that you _ really _enjoy sacrificing yourself, but you got a dose of the weaker serum and almost kicked it. You think you’ll survive a second time?”

“Tony, it’s not up to you--”

“I haven’t been infected yet, I’ll do it--”

“The Hulk won’t let me die, I’ll live no matter what--”

“I’m doing it.” They all fall quiet at the sound of a new voice in the room. Peter’s standing at the entrance of the room, his baggy Stark Industries t-shirt slipping off of his shoulder a little. Tony settles him with a hard stare.

“Absolutely not, kid.”

“It makes perfect sense. My metabolism burns through the serum faster than anyone else. I recovered twice as fast as Mr Rogers, remember? And that was with the stronger stuff. So if anything goes wrong, I’m more likely to survive.” Peter steps forwards, pointing his argument towards Tony. “I need to get back out there, sir. The longer I stay here, the more people out there who are in danger.”

“Put your nauseating selflessness to the side for a minute, Parker. You’re nineteen, you wanna die before your life’s even started?”

The kid that had stared at Tony with absolute admiration the moment they’d met actually _ glares _at him.

“Mr Stark, I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.” And then before anyone can stop him, he’s pulling a syringe out of his pocket - the vaccine - and stabs it into his arm, pushing all of the liquid into his body. Bruce curses under his breath next to him. Peter chucks the syringe into a trash can next to him. “We better get started.”

Peter walks down the corridor and into the elevator.

“Did he just--” Steve opens and closes his mouth, not quite sure what to say. Tony’s shock slowly subsides and he’s left with the bitter feeling of frustration. He shakes his head, rubbing his forehead with his fingers.

“That kid.”

-x-

Peter can’t believe he’d just done that. He’d looked Tony Stark in the eyes and did exactly the opposite of what he’d told him to do.

He walks into the lab and hurries over a stool, grabbing the back of it firmly to hold his weak, jello-legs up. He sits down and waits for the wrath.

It’s not long before Tony and Bruce are walking through the door, both not looking particularly happy. He meets their eyes, refusing to show how little control he felt like he had over his bladder.

“You’re an idiot,” Tony says bluntly, stalking towards him, grabbing a box off of the counter as he passed it. He’s in front of Peter in seconds, looking down into his determined face, too close for comfort. “Do you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into?” He says quietly, calmly, and that scares Peter just that little bit more. 

“I want to help,” Peter replies stupidly. Like there’s nothing else he’s capable of saying. Tony stares down at him, eyes burning. 

“You do realise that whatever happens to you, whatever stupid little game you decide to play as spider-boy from today onwards, is on me?” Tony snaps, putting the box in his hands down on the counter next to them a little more forcefully than necessary. “Hell, all that crap you got up to before we’d even met, that was on me too.”

Peter’s confused. “What?”

“I knew you existed, kid. Never approached you, never offered help. Just let you get on with your friendly neighborhood Spiderman life. If I’d told you--”

“That’s-- Mr Stark, that’s stupid,” And Peter wants to crawl into a hole and die because he’d just told Tony Stark that something he’d said was _ stupid _, “You’re not responsible for everyone in the Universe with some sort of superpower. You’re not in the center of whatever weird stuff goes on. You’re Iron Man, yeah,” Peter smiles at him, “But without that suit? You’re just Tony Stark, with a big brain and a big ego. Whatever I do is not your fault.”

Bruce lets out a choked laugh behind them but Peter and Tony don’t notice. Tony’s staring down at Peter so much more intensely than before, jaw clenched shut and eyes flickering to and fro between Peter’s. As if finally realising where he is and what he's supposed to be doing, he jerks away and starts to fiddle with the box next to them. Peter keeps watching, sees a pulse in his jaw throb as his teeth clench and unclench.

Well, he’d been at Stark Tower less than two days and he’d already pissed Tony Stark off. _ Good job, Peter. _

Bruce walks between them, giving Peter a huge smile before leaning into the box Tony has opened. Inside is a syringe, filled with the same liquid that had been in the dart that had shot Peter. Tony takes it out of Bruce’s hand quickly, ignoring the affronted look he gets from him, and approaches Peter. 

“Sleeve up. Moment of truth.” Peter pulls up his baggy sleeve, up and over his shoulder. Tony steps into his space again, warmth engulfing the front of Peter’s body. Fingers rub gently on his bare bicep, soft and gentle. Peter’s gaze doesn’t leave Tony’s face. When the needle goes into his arm, his sharp intake of breath finally brings Tony’s gaze to his and doesn’t break away, not until the syringe is out of his arm and in a metal dish next to them. “Now we wait,” Tony murmurs, eyes searching Peter’s face, waiting for any sort of reaction.

Peter’s forgotten how to breathe with Tony Stark standing so close to his person and he can’t figure out why.

“Feeling any different yet? Thirty seconds has passed,” Bruce speaks out next to them and Tony pulls back from where he’s standing in front of Peter. He can breathe again.

“N-no, nothing.” 

“That’s good, right?” Bruce’s face looks hopeful. Peter grins in reply, but then his head is spinning, the room’s flipping in every direction it can, and he blacks out.

-x-

When he wakes up again, he’s still in the lab, lying on a cold, metal table. Tony and Bruce are sitting on the other side of the lab, but they don’t look scared, or worried. They’re smiling and talking amongst themselves.

“Is it-- Did it work?” Peter’s voice calls out to them and they’re immediately pushing themselves out of their stools, metal scraping against metal on the floor, walking to his side.

“All good, kid. Need to readjust a few things, seems like it wears off too fast so you'll be needing a permanent dose, but everything else works just fine.” Tony grips him by the shoulder and the side of his lips quirk upwards at him. Peter’s smile spreads easily across his face.

“So… we can leave? We can go and find whoever’s doing this?” Peter asks. Tony and Bruce exchange a look.

“We need to develop the vaccine for everyone here, science takes time. We’ll have to administer it one by one,” Bruce elaborates. It’s not exactly what Peter wants, but he’s happy nonetheless.

“Oh, okay. That’s fine, well, I’ll go last. I live in Queens so I’ve got nowhere else to be, you guys all have important superhero stuff to do so you go ahead!”

Tony snorts. “‘Important superhero stuff’? Kid, we have a few minor missions a week, we’re not exactly in a rush. Don’t you want to get back to your aunt?”

“No! No, it’ll be fine Mr Stark, I’ll stick around, if that’s okay?” Peter’s suddenly nervous, feeling like he’s pushing himself onto them. Maybe they wanted him to leave first? Bruce smiles at him and ruffles his hair.

“Of course you can, Peter. We’ll be happy to have you. Let’s get the Guardians their doses first, yeah? Get ‘em back into space.” He asks Tony, who responds with a curt nod. 

“They’re from _ space? _” Peter whispers in awe and Bruce lets out a chuckle. 

“Yeah, yeah, they are. But trust me, space isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’d take good old Earth any day.”

“_ You’ve _been to space?” Peter didn’t think it was possible for him to get any more envious. Bruce just laughs and tugs on Peter’s arm. 

“Come on, I’ll show you to your room and tell you along the way.”

-x-

_ “Talking raccoon? You’re just fucking with us now, Pete,” _ MJ says down the phone around a mouthful of food. “So how long you gonna be? Your job still gonna be there when you get back?”

“Two weeks, maybe more. Mr Diaz said I can take my holiday, but to give him more notice next time. Guess he’s warming up to me.”

_ “You know Ned’s practically wetting himself about this whole situation right? He’s not gonna leave your side when you get outta there. Keeps talking about being your ‘guy in the chair’.” _

Peter laughs. “What does that mean?”

_ “Be damned if I know.” _ There’s quiet while MJ takes another bite. _ “Hey, Peter?” _

“Hm?”

_ “You’re gonna go after the guy, aren’t you?” _ Peter looks down into his lap, glad that MJ can’t see his face. She was too observant for her own good.

“Yeah. He might not stop at us, you know? How long until he gets bored and goes after everyone else? He’s got to be stopped.”

_ “Peter, you’re in a tower full of badass superheroes who’ve fought off aliens and evil gods. You sure you don’t just want to sit this one out and let them deal with it?” _

“Not a chance.”

_ “Well, _ ” MJ says, “ _ Guess all I’ve got to say is good luck, then.” _

Peter grins down the phone and is, once again, full of love for his friends. When he’s said his goodbye, he hangs up the phone and looks around his room. It’s the size of his Aunt’s apartment back in Queen’s, fully stocked with a closet of clothes - clothes that actually fit him - a panel on his desk with access to Tony’s system and an enormous double bed, which he’s pretty sure is the softest thing he’s ever laid on. 

The sun is setting outside, casting an orange glow across the beige carpet in his room and sending the rest of the city into a tangerine hue. He taps his leg a few times, restless. As exciting and thrilling as the last few days had been, he was… bored.

He gets to his feet and leaves the room in search of something to entertain himself.

“Small human.” 

He jumps and turns around, coming face to face with a bald, blue lady, with a long strip of metal going through her head. His mouth falls open. _ What else is he going to bump into? _

“H-Hi,” He manages to choke out when he realises they were just standing in the corridor, staring at each other. He pushes out a hand. “Peter Parker.”

Nebula stares at his hand and it takes a while for Peter to realise that she doesn’t know what to do. He wiggles his fingers and eventually she raises her hand and takes it. Her skin is cold.

“Nebula.” They stand in awkward silence. 

“I like your--” Peter gestures to the metal strip on her head, “It’s cool.”

She tilts her head to the side. “‘Cool?’”

“Yeah! You know, it looks good.” Peter smiles at nervously, wondering if complimenting her about it was the best idea. It takes a while but eventually Nebula’s lip twitch upwards for a millisecond.

“Are you coming into the lounge, Peter Parker?”

-x-

Tony sits up straight and winces when his back clicks. He'd been working on the vaccine on and off for about six hours, occasionally drifting to his side project whenever Bruce took over, and they were only halfway to making one more dose. 

“That’s it, I’m out. I need a drink,” Tony says to himself, rubbing at his eyes and standing up from his seat, He stretches and it feels like all his bones are clicking back into place. He exits the lab, limping a little on his dead leg, and heads for the elevator.

He wants to get out. To put his suit on and fly away as far as he can. He’s just _ done _ with these aliens, humans, Gods - always after him and his family. When he finds out who's been targeting them, it’s going to be very, _ very _hard to stop himself from blasting them into space.

When the doors of the elevator open, he notices it’s a bit more rowdier than usual. He turns the corner and notices all of his guests lounging around, music playing loudly through the projected screen and empty beer cans scattered around the living room.

“And-- And he just stands up and goes ‘my mother?!’” Rocket’s finishing a story and the response is loud laughter from everyone around him (other than Nebula, who shows nothing but a tiny smile). Peter’s in the throng of them all, everyone facing him, everyone surrounding him. Like he’s some kind of prize they’re all trying to win. The can of beer sandwiched between Peter’s knees explains the carefree smile planted across the kids face.

“You realise the drinking age is twenty-one, right?” Tony comments as he approaches, reaching forward to grab a beer for himself. He points a finger at Steve. “I expected better from you.”

“So your late teens were picture perfect, Tony?” Natasha quips, chugging back the last of her beer. Tony feigns innocence.

“Nothing but. Animal shelters, bedtime by ten--”

“--Different woman every night, alcohol for breakfast--”

“--Gala’s for homeless pigeons, Girl Scout leader--”

“--Non-stop stream of parties, a gazillion sex tapes--”

“Hey!” Tony protests, “I’ll have you know, I’m incredibly proud of each and every one of them.” He smirks when everyone laughs around him, knowing he’d lost the fight. He joins the group around Peter, his iron heart feeling a little warm and fuzzy at the performance everyone was clearly putting on for the kid. 

Peter looked like he was loving absolutely every minute of it.

"Is it like this here every night?" he asks them. The group falls into a wistful silence.

“We’re not here much, kiddo. Steve’s got the baby Avengers to train over at the compound, Nat’s always got a mission, the Guardians here have crazy space adventures to go on,” Bruce replies. Peter smiles sadly at them all.

“But when you get together, this is what it’s like?”

“Yeah, always.”

“Must be nice,” Peter says quietly, “Having such a big family.”

The collective ‘awww’s’ around the room are in harmony. Tony chugs back the rest of his beer, even though there was still three-quarters of the can left, and grabs another two. He chucks one at Peter, whose hand immediately snaps up to catch it, despite the fact he was looking at Bruce. _ Spider reflexes, _Tony thinks, and with that tiny little gesture, Peter seems a lot older than his nineteen years. 

“What about your family, Peter Parker?” Nebula asks and Tony wants to slap her stupid metal head for opening her mouth. Peter looks into his lap.

“Just me and my aunt. She’s not blood-related but that doesn’t mean anything to me, she’s all I’ve got and I’m happy with her.” Peter crunches his empty can in one hand and tosses it onto the table, opening his new one and tipping back what must have been half the can into his mouth. Tony eyes follow the line of his throat as he swallows it. 

No one quite knows what to say following his admission.

“For what it’s worth - and it’s well overdue - but welcome to the family,” Steve lifts his can and everyone else follows suite. 

“Thank-- Thank you, guys.” Peter’s voice wobbles a bit and while everyone else drinks to the toast, Tony holds back and watches their new addition wipe a tear away from his eye before anyone can catch it.


	4. Chapter 4

Groot’s the first one to be vaccinated, but since Quill’s ship is a few days out, he tells them he’s going to stick around. At least, that’s what Rocket told Peter and the others he’d said.

Peter’s getting restless. It’d been years since he’d gone so long without pulling his suit on and taking off through New York. He’s lying on his bed, webshooters on his wrists, firing and retracting his web at the ceiling. A gentle knock breaks him out of his trance and he scrambles to his feet to open the door.

Steve is standing there with two mugs of coffee in his hands. He passes one to Peter.

Peter thanks him and pushes aside the part of his brain that’s turned to jelly over the fact that _ Captain America _is bringing him coffee. 

“You okay, kid?” Steve asks. Peter takes a sip and of course, it’s perfect. 

“I don’t want to seem like I don’t appreciate everything everyone’s done for me, but I’m…” He leans forward and lowers his voice, “I’m _ bored. _”

Steve lets out a laugh. “Yeah, downtime is great but it’s certainly dull.” He notices the webshooters on Peter’s wrists. “Mind if I ask what they are?”

Peter doesn’t realise what he’s talking about at first, then follows his gaze down the metal on his wrists.

“Oh, these? My webshooters.”

“You make them yourself?”

“Yeah, took me two days to find the right formula for the web but managed it in the end.” Peter grins, happy to be talking to someone about one of his creations. Steve hums in thought for a moment.

“You’ve been to Tony’s lab already, right?”

All of the contraptions and tools and parts flash through Peter’s mind and a hazy smile spreads across his lips. “Yeah,” Peter says, unable to hide the adoration in his voice. Steve nods, as if he’d expected the answer. 

“Tell you what, kid, you grab your suit and your webshooters and follow me.” Before Peter can ask why Steve is turning around and heading back down the corridor towards the elevator. Deciding it probably wasn’t a good idea to disobey Captain Rogers, he runs to his closet and grabs his suit, running out of the door, leaving the hot mug of coffee behind.

-x-

Tony spins the holographic of Peter’s suit around on the monitor in front of him, double, triple, _ quadruple _checking that he hadn’t accidentally made the suit without realising. Because he was having a very, very tough time differentiating the suit in front of him to something he’d have churned out his lab for a member of his team.

“Nano motors in the chest piece?” Tony asks and Peter nods. “Where’d you get ‘em?”

“Full months wage, secondhand, spent over a month repairing them back to full capacity.”

“Do you…” Tony finally gives up and sits on the stool behind him, running a hand through his hair. “You know what this is right?” He waves a hand at the image of the suit.

Peter stares back blankly. _ Was he really that oblivious? _

“Pete, this is next-level stuff. Beyond-your-years, decades in the field kinda thing. And you’re telling me you made this in a bedroom in your aunt’s apartment?”

“Um… I read a lot?”

Tony’s not the kind of person to be speechless - he’s got something to say, always - but right now, in his lab, in front of this nineteen-year-old boy, his words are lost. Peter seems to get increasingly uncomfortable the longer he stares, but he doesn’t notice. 

“Come here,” Tony says finally, gesturing for Peter to move closer. Confused, Peter steps forward to stand next to Tony on his stool, his elbow brushing Tony’s bicep. He looks at the projected screen that Tony starts to shuffle his hand around until a window pops up. “You know what that is?”

Tony watches as Peter leans toward the screen, nose crinkling a little in concentration and eyes narrowing. A smile dances around Tony’s lips at his expression.

“Anti-bio compound made up of about six… seven different elements, with a resistance to outside sources.” Peter’s eyebrows shoot up. “The vaccine?”

Tony nods. “You know how long it takes to make something like this?”

“Months. Or, well, if you take this… And move this...” Peter moves his hand around on the screen, flinging the strings of code to the left and right, replacing it all in a completely different order. “A few days.”

Something inside Tony makes him want to get up and swing the kid around the room, pinch his cheeks, stand up and applaud… He settles for a hand ruffling in the boys hair instead and when Peter turns to look at him in surprise, he smirks.

“Sir?” 

“What you just did there? In one look? That took Bruce a day to figure out.”

Peter’s eyes widen and his mouth starts to open and close like a fish. “That’s… That’s not possible Mr Stark. He couldn’t have missed it, he couldn’t have--”

“Just what is it you do for your day job, Pete, when you’re not making webs in back alleys and punching muggers?”

“I-I’m a lab technician at Little Corp, paperwork and cleaning, but it’s not so bad, I get to contribute to some of the projects and I’m good friends with the other two people in the lab--”

“Not anymore.” Peter stares at Tony and he’s pulling that pouty, crinkles-between-his-eyebrows, confused expression again and Tony doesn’t think he’ll ever get bored of seeing it. “You’ll work here, with me. Pepper’s been hounding me to get an assistant and while you’re not exactly what she had in mind, I could do with the company--”

“Mr Stark, no, no, I can’t--” Tony spins on his stool and gives him a hard stare that silences him. 

“Little Corp. will keep you in that hellhole you’re in for years before they notice your potential and when they do, you’ll be shoved underneath some douchebag with a hundred more qualifications but a fraction of your skill. Here? Name your price and you’ll get what you want.”

He’s busy staring at Peter’s thick eyelashes when he realises that they’re a lot closer than they’d been five minutes ago. Turning around in his stool had brought their legs together and Tony must’ve parted his knees to frame Peter’s. 

“Mr Stark,” Peter says to him, voice low and gentle. It’s suddenly much harder to swallow the saliva gathered in Tony’s throat and he watches the pulse on Peter’s neck move. “Mr Stark, it would be an honor.”

-x-

With Peter’s help, it’s almost exactly two weeks when everyone’s finally vaccinated and ready to leave. Natasha decides to stay, ‘_ this guy nearly killed Rogers, I’m gonna make sure he knows how much that pisses me off _ ,’ and that’s all it takes for the rest of the team to decide to stick around too. Except now they were free to leave the building, albeit with extreme caution _ . _

Peter had actually gotten himself into a routine, fitting into Tony and Bruce’s side with ease. He’d wake up in the morning and grab a croissant or whatever kind of pastry had decided to grace the kitchen that morning, and he’d be straight down into the lab, gloves and goggles on. After the first week of having his pastry stolen by Tony and Bruce, he started bringing extras with him. They’d work through lunch, with Tony switching between helping them when needed and working on all of his little side projects, which he’d occasionally ask their input for. Peter was particularly curious about the one he was working on through a door at the end of the lab, but Tony had instructed him not to peek, so he’d stayed away.

It was nice. As the days went on, Peter’s nerves at being around all of his idols began to dwindle and he relaxed around them, finding his voice steadier and conversation easier. These people surrounding him were so genuine, so happy to see him, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt more warm inside.

Steve was always there to tell him stories about the war or ask about small things he was still unsure about in the modern world, which Peter was always happy to explain. Natasha had taken on the responsibility of making sure their house arrest didn’t leave them flabby and took Peter down the gym regularly to beat the crap out of him. Nebula always happened to walk into the lounge at the same time every night, when Peter settled down to watch a film, sitting down beside him where they’d both sit in silence to watch the movie until they went to bed. Rocket was Rocket, telling Peter as many stories as he could about space, making Peter laugh until his stomach hurt or leaving him in awe when he described all the planets he’d been to.

He stands in the corridor, ready to leave with nothing but the suit under his clothes and a new phone pushed into the pocket of the dark sweatpants he’d pulled on that morning. There’s a horrible, twisting feeling in his gut, though. He wants to see May, wants to finally go and have that movie night with Ned and MJ, but there’s also a part of him that feels wrong for walking out of Stark Tower while everyone else gathers together to find ‘the bad guy’.

“You want me to call a car to get you home?” A voice asks from behind him. The horrible, twisting feeling in his gut switches to a quick stab of nervousness that travels from his stomach all the way up his spine. _ When is that going to stop happening? _

He turns to greet Tony, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “I’ll be fine, Mr Stark.”

Tony rests a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezes, a habit he’d seemed to pick up the last two weeks while they worked together. And Peter hates that every single goddamn time he does it, the itchy but pleasant feeling in his stomach gets worse. “For a guy whose been cooped up in a dusty lab with two old men for two weeks, you don’t look that happy to be leaving.”

“Because… because I’m not, Mr Stark. I want to stay here, I want to help.”

“How about this; you go out there, you do your thing and you come back here when you’re done with your spidey-business for the night?” 

Peter’s face lights up. “Y-You’d let me stay here? I wouldn’t be in the way? Really?”

“Kid, there’s more rooms in this place than people, pretty sure you couldn’t get in my way if you tried.”

Peter’s arms twitch with the urge to push forwards and hug the man in front of him but for the sake of his humility, he holds himself back. Instead, he grins as wide as his mouth can allow him.

“Mr Stark, you’re awesome.”

Tony sighs, clapping Peter on the back and wrapping an arm over his shoulders, ushering him to the elevator. 

“I know, I know.”

-x-

Peter yawns and rubs at his eyes, pushing open the door to the lab. He’d come back to work for the time being, not entirely sure when his job at Stark Industries was going to begin (he ignored the way he grinned and his stomach did little flips every time he even thought about it).

“Hey, Peter,” Saul greets sullenly from where he was bent over a few vials, one of them bubbling above a burner. It smelt like rubber and grass. “Have a good holiday?”

“Yeah, sorry for not saying anything before I disappeared like that,” Peter replies, “Something came up.”

Saul hums and stands up straight, peeling the gloves off of his hand and removing his goggles. Peter slumps into his chair and stares at the sink, already filled with dirty tubes and dishes. _ Welcome back, Peter. _

He jumps when something falls onto the counter beside him and realises it’s his backpack - the one he’d left behind the day he was shot. Panic shoots up his spine and spread through his bones, like an electric current.

“You left this in your spot,” Saul says from next to him, an edge to his voice. When Peter shifts his wide eyes to him, he’s staring at him differently. Less carefree, less lax. 

“Did you…” Peter starts, his voice low and careful. “Do you..”

Saul nodded, pulling a chair up and falling into it. He puts his arms behind his head and watches Peter’s every move.

“Since day five,” he replies, not needing to hear the question. Peter puts his head in his hands.

“Day five,” Peter repeats under his breath. He lets out a humorless laugh. “I’m pretty awful at this, aren’t I?”

“Not sure there’s a course on how to be a super-secretive, spider person.”

Despite the situation, Peter lets out a laugh and lifts his head up, smiling at Saul. “Have you told anyone?”

Saul’s quiet for a moment, staring at Peter with his half-lidded, sleepy eyes. Then he leans forward and lowers his voice.

“About two years ago, my mom’s out late to pick up a prescription for herself. She works long hours, seven days a week, so the only free time she gets is at stupid o’clock at night. She’s out way past nine, heading down an alley to get back home, when she gets jumped. Three guys, waiting for her to come out with her pain pills. Addicts.” Saul fiddles with a piece of string on his sweatpants. “She comes out of it with one black eye, but basically unharmed. You wanna know who saved her?” Saul smiles. “You.” 

Peter’s speechless, doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to react. Saul leans back in his chair and closes his eyes, hands tucked firmly behind his head. “I figured if you wanted people to know who you were, you wouldn’t wear that mask so I kept it quiet. Acted like I didn’t know a thing.”

“Is.. Is your mom okay now?” 

Saul’s eyes open and twinkle at him. “Yeah, she is. Thanks to you.”

Peter smiles down into his lap and warmth rises through his chest. He’d never felt like his efforts were for nothing. He knew what he’d saved some people from, even knew that there were some people walking around in the city that were still alive because of him. But to be thanked? To have someone know his true face and be thanked for it? It was a feeling he didn’t want to forget.

-x-

Hugo Diaz stares hard at his computer monitor. Stares and stares and stares until his eyes are watering and he has to blink. On the screen, there’s CCTV video of the lab that sits on the other side of the door in front of him.

He’d been curious. Peter had begun to show potential, had finally given him a bit of hope towards the future of the lab he ran that had been stuck in a standstill for two years. So when his promising employee had up and disappeared, no notice at all, he’d wanted to know what it was that had been so important. He’d decided to see if Peter was going to open up about his absence to either of his other employees.

And he’d heard so much more than he’d meant to.

Mr Diaz sits back slowly in his desk chair, eyes strained and a smile spreading across his face. From anyone else’s perspective, he would look content; happy almost. But underneath the dark, wooden desk, his fingers curled in on themselves and tightened, knuckles white.

_ Peter Parker. _

-x-

Tony’s been searching the databases for anyone capable of making the serum, both good and bad, and there’s just no one that stands out. There wasn’t enough time for him to individually check everyone in the world by himself and quite frankly, his eyes weren’t up to the task. They ached.

He looks at the time on the wall above him. 11:05pm. He’d been awake for thirty-six hours and had no leads. Everyone at the Tower had been coming and going and there’d been no incidents as of yet, so he takes that as a win. Maybe they’d hid inside long enough for whoever held a grudge against them to just move on? 

He pushes himself out of his chair and swipes a hand over his console, closing everything off. When he leaves the lab and gets into the elevator to head up to his room, he’s suddenly aware of how quiet the Tower is. After nearly a month in a building full of people he considered family, it was a strange, solemn feeling to be faced with emptiness and silence, now.

He notices light shining out underneath Peter’s door as he walks past. The kid had been coming back to sleep at the Tower, but Tony hadn’t bumped into him at all. _ He’s still safer here than out there. _

He reaches his bedroom, door opening on his approach, and lets out an exhausted sigh of relief at the sight of his bed. He doesn’t hesitate, not even to take off his t-shirt and pants, just collapses onto the bed and hums in happiness when his head hits the pillow. It takes less than thirty seconds for him to start drifting off.

His phone dings and it jerks him awake again. With a groan, he rolls over to his side and manoeuvres the phone out of his pocket. 

_ [Email received] _

Frowning, he swipes up and unlocks the phone. No one had his personal email. _ No one. _He opens the email, which lists no sender and no subject, and skims the message. Then he sits up so fast, his vision goes black for a second. 

“Shit,” Tony mutters. It takes too long for his body to wake up and after a minute of sitting in shock, he slips off of the bed, shoving his glasses on as he goes.

“Friday, track the email I just received, go as deep as you can.”

“_ Of course.” _

Tony yanks open his door, nearly colliding with the door handle, and walks quickly down the corridor, stopping outside of Peter’s door. He hammers on it loud and fast, until Peter’s opened the door and staring at him.

“Mr St--”

“Who have you told?” Peter just stares at him in confusion. “Peter, who knows you’re Spiderman?”

“Uh, my two friends, MJ and Ned. Someone I work with has known for a while, though I didn’t know--”

“That person you work with, he’s at Little Corp.? He ever talk to you before?” 

“Yeah, we’ve been close for about a year, he’s a good guy, sir. Look, what’s happening, can you just--”

Tony holds his phone up.

_ [No Subject] _

_ [No Sender] _

_ Peter Parker is Spiderman. _

Underneath the message is a picture of Peter leaving Little Corp., gazing up at the sky with his backpack over his shoulder, unaware of the hidden photographer.

It takes Peter just a second to read it and terror contorts his face. He opens his mouth to talk but all that comes out is a croak. Tony watches him process it, doesn’t know where to go from here. Whoever sent the message didn’t do it for attention if they went through the effort of accessing Tony’s personal email. It was a threat.

There’s a shift in Peter and the fear’s gone. Determination is set in his jaw.

“Mr Stark, what does this mean?” He asks. Tony tucks his hands into his pockets and stares while his mind runs through a hundred solutions. It settles on one and he takes his phone out again, pressing it to his ear.

“It means it’s about time the world found out who Spiderman is.”


	5. Chapter 5

Steve and Tony are sat on the couch together, their feet propped up on the coffee table in front of them and beers in their hands. It’s been a day since Tony received the email and he’s waiting for a specialist to arrive at Stark Tower, so he can figure out how to best make the big announcement.

“You think it’s the guy Peter works with, then?” Steve asks, taking a drink from his can.

“Friday confirmed it came from Little Corp., but the kid’s adamant it wasn’t him. Says there’s no sense in saying he knows, then using it as blackmail,” Tony replies, “Which means his little buddy is safe.”

They sit and listen to the gentle hum of the room around them, Natasha and Bruce chatting together at the counter separating the kitchen from the rest of the room and Nebula and Rocket talking in low tones at each other in the corner.

“You sure this is the right idea? He’s hidden who he is for a reason,” Steve asks, “Is there nothing else we can do?”

“We don’t know if the guy who sent that email is the same one taking potshots at us, if Spidey’s face is out there, he’ll be a bad target to go for. Plus, it’s the last thing our anon will expect”

“So it’s about taking the heat off of him and onto us?” Steve smirks at Tony and finishes his can. “I can live with that.”

The door to the lounge opens and Tony looks over his shoulder at the blonde woman who enters, heels clacking against the wooden floors.

“Pepper! Just in time for Happy Hour,” he says, getting to his feet and brushing his hands down his clothes. Steve stands up to greet her too.

“I’m on the clock, Tony. Always am,” she smiles at him and brings him in for a hug, gently pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Where is he?”

“Here.” Pepper turns around as Peter walks into the room, hands tucked nervously into the pockets of his pants. “Hi, Miss Potts.”

“Just how good is his hearing?” Steve whispers into Tony’s ear.

“Very good,” Peter replies, throwing a quick, tiny smile at Steve before returning his eyes to Pepper. Tony feels a pang of pity for the kid when he looks at how slumped his shoulders are, his usual boisterousness gone. He really didn’t want this. Didn’t want the fame, the glory, the attention.  _ Too pure. _

“Nice to meet you, Peter, Tony’s told me all about you.” She holds her hand out and Peter takes it politely, obviously trying his best to conjure up a bright smile, but failing. Pepper notices and squeezes his shoulder with her manicured hand, smiling sympathetically. “It’ll be fine, Peter. We’ll do everything right, make sure we cover all the bases.” She looks at Tony. “Have you prepared the safe lodgings for family and friends?”

“Cleared a floor on level twenty--”

“What? You can’t-- Mr Stark, I can’t just pick up everyone around me and make them come here, I can’t inconvenience them that much,” Peter butts in, panicked. “If doing this means everyone I care about has to go into hiding, I’m not doing it.”

“Kiddo,” Steve steps in, “I get it, I do. But whether you do this or not, there’s a chance you’ll be found out regardless. Best to do it on your own terms.”

His words send Peter back to being a defeated, miserable lump. 

“Okay,” he replies in a small voice, “Okay, fine.”

“We’ll need them here the day after tomorrow. Who’s on the list?” Pepper taps a few buttons on her phone, flicking back her fringe when it falls across her face. 

“May Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones and Saul and Kate Chen,” Tony lists off, having done his research about all of Peter’s contacts the night before. Peter’s stiff in front of them, jaw clenched. 

“Are Saul and Kate really necessary? I just work with them--” 

“In Little Corp. Where our mysterious message came from. You want to take the risk they’ll get caught in the crossfire after all this?” Tony says sternly, feeling a small stab of guilt at the way Peter clamps his mouth shut and drops his head.

“Great. We’ll start with the reveal in the main hall tomorrow evening. I’ve got a guest list formed, we’ll hold a celebratory party beforehand and continue after to let Peter mingle and meet who he needs to meet. We’ll follow that up with whatever gets thrown at us.” She pats Peter on the arm, passes him a gentle smile and walks off down the corridor, tapping away at her phone. 

“You okay, kid?” Steve asks. Peter’s paled and a light sheen of sweat has formed over his brow. 

“I’ve got to tell everyone who I am in a room full of people I don’t know, pretend to be happy about it, and then celebrate it afterwards?” For the first time since he’d arrived at the tower, his voice holds a sharp edge to it and he looks between Tony and Steve. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

The sarcasm is strong.

“Tell you what; go get your suit and go for a swing. Cool off, because God forbid you work yourself up so much you end up saying a bad word.” Tony waves him away and as if in a trance, Peter follows his orders and walks away from them stiffly.

“You want to know what’s scary?” Steve says while they watch him leave. He points at Peter’s back. “That just sounded exactly like you.”

-x-

Once he feels like he’s up high enough, away from any cameras or prying eyes, Peter pulls the mask off of his head and breathes in the evening air. It was the last time he’d have to do it; tuck himself away on top of a dark rooftop to look out over the city, feeling constantly on edge in case someone discovered him maskless.

He stares down into his lap, the mask looking back at him. It wasn’t just a form of protection for his head, it was his way of shielding the world from himself and everyone around him. Because if people knew who he was, they’d know who loved him, who cared for him. And that put them at risk. 

He looks up when a tingle shoots through his body, like he’d reacted to a cold breeze across his neck. There’s a scuffle behind him, a footstep, and he’s up on his feet in seconds, guard up, mask on.

“Peter Parker.” He sags in relief at the familiar voice and rips the mask off of his head again.

“Nebula? How did you find me?” He sits back on the ledge of the rooftop, watching the woman emerge from the shadows, metal glinting in the moonlight. She’s wearing a baggy black hoodie that she must have been using to cover her face while she walked around the city. It looks so out of place and so  _ human. _

“I saw you with this,” She taps the metal around her eye, “I wanted to see where you were going.” Peter nods in understanding and looks down to where he’s twirling the mask between his fingers, elbows on his knees. Her footsteps draw closer. “You seem… sad.”

“You understand what I’ve got to do tomorrow, right?” He asks, lifting his head to look at her.

“Show your true face to everyone on this planet. But why does that make you sad?” She asks, head tilting to the side in confusion. Peter looks back down at his lap, scuffling the floor with his foot.

“If it was just my life changing tomorrow, I’d be okay, I’d get through it how I always do. But it’s not; it’s my family and my friends. I only wanted to protect people, especially them, and instead I could end up putting them in danger.”

He sees her shadow extend on the floor in front of him as she moves closer. She takes a seat next to Peter and he doesn’t know if he imagines her sigh or not.

“These people you want to protect, do they care for you?” 

“Y-Yeah, I guess?” He replies, watching her stare into the distance in deep thought. Her eyes snap to his and she leans forwards in a way that he supposes she thinks is comforting, but it’s actually a little intimidating.

“Then maybe you should give them a chance to protect you, too.”

-x-

He pushes his head further back in the plump cushions of the sofa and closes his eyes for a moment, phone limp in his hand. He wants to ring his aunt, he does, but the words aren’t coming to him and he just knows there’s no way he can put it that will make her forgive him.

His head jerks up when the cushion next to him sinks down. Tony Stark is acting purposefully nonchalant, like he’d ended up sitting next to Peter entirely by coincidence and had no intention of sparking up a conversation. It would have worked, had there not been about twelve other seats for him to choose. 

The smell of Tony’s cologne - wood and spice - overwhelms Peter’s senses and Peter doesn’t know whether he’d gone a bit mad with the spray or if his nose was simply becoming more attuned to his scent.

Either way, it was nice.

“You shouldn’t do it, you know,” Tony finally says, taking a sip from the glass tumbler in his hand.

Peter blinks, snapping himself out of a daze. “Do what?” Tony dips his head towards the phone in his hand.

“Don’t ring your aunt. Trust me, kid, better just to rip the band-aid off in one go instead of inch by inch. You’ll be here all night ringing everyone you know.”

“You want me to let her find out through the  _ news?” _ Peter asks incredulously. 

“You know, when you want advice, I’m really not the best person to ask. Surely my past transgressions have more than proved that.” 

“Mr Stark, I didn’t ask for your advice.” Tony regards him thoughtfully for a second, then smirks.

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t need it.” Before Peter can reply, Tony gets up from his seat and heads over to the bar sitting in the corner of the lounge. He leans forwards, catching an open whisky bottle between his fingers, and brings it back to the couch with another glass. “Want to know what’s better than sitting in a dark room at midnight, getting lost in your deep, dark, sad thoughts?” Peter can guess the answer.

Tony wiggles the bottle at him. 

“I-I shouldn’t, sir, I’ve got a long day tomorrow and--”

“Wrong answer. The answer should be ‘yes, Mr Stark, I’d be honored to drink with you into the early hours of the morning so you don’t have to go back to your bedroom and spend all night awake anyway because the human brain sucks and nightmares exist’.”

The urge to suffocate Tony with questions, sympathy and comfort is so, so strong, but Peter squashes it down, taking the glass from Tony’s outstretched hand with a smile. _Baby steps, Peter._ _Baby steps._

-x-

Two hours have disappeared, as has the rest of the whiskey bottle. Peter’s stretched out on the sofa, feet propped up lazily on the armrest and the back of his head resting snugly on Tony’s thigh. Tony has his own head tipped back against the couch cushions, staring at the tall ceiling above them, his arms framing the back of the sofa. They both have half-full glasses of whiskey dangling from their hands.

“No, see Nick Fury as Dumbledore would totall-- it’d totally work.” Peter slurs, pointing a finger at the air above them for no reason whatsoever. “Manip-- Manipulative mentor and all that.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tony responds, not quite sure how one word turned into three. “But we agreed? Nat as McGonagall? I mean, if I-- if you squint hard enough she might even look like her.” Peter’s ugly-snort-laughing on his leg and Tony raises his head to smirk down at him, enjoying the warmth coming through his jeans.

“What about you?” Peter asks, taking another sip from his glass. He overshoots it and it spills past the corners of his mouth and dribbles onto Tony’s jeans. Tony doesn’t notice.

“It’s not obvious? Hermione. Cute and clever, two of my most attracted-- attractive assets-- What?” Peter’s whacking him on the arm and shaking his head, his hair rubbing against Tony’s pants.

“Clever, yeah, cute? No, Mr Stark.” Peter holds up a finger to Tony’s lips -- he’d known he was about to interrupt. “Mr Stark, it’s the wrong word, it’s--” Peter’s eyes clench shut in thought and Tony’s too focused on the finger on his lips to realise how long it takes Peter to finally open them again. “Enthralling? I dunno, seems too fancy.” Tony nods in understanding, drunk mind breezing over the compliment. The finger falls off of his lips and limply onto his chest, the back of Peter’s hand pressing into the spot where an arc reactor once sat. He’s actually disappointed when Peter pulls his head off of his lap and sits up. Peter props his elbow on the back of the sofa, resting his head into the palm of his head to keep it upright. “Sir, who’m’I?”

Tony hums in thought for a moment and then a drunk smile spreads across his face.

“‘T’s gotta be Ron Weasley.” Peter frowns in confusion.

“Wha-- How?”

“Loyal,” Tony ticks off on one finger, being careful not to jog the whiskey glass in his hand, “Lovable, easy to please, I could carry on.”

Their stupid little conversation has taken a strange turn and Tony doesn’t realise the shift in atmosphere until he moves his head to the side to see why the kid’s staying so quiet. Peter’s just watching him through unfocused eyes, like he’s so lost in his head he’s forgotten about his physical body. 

Tony pokes him once in the chest. “Wake up.” Peter snaps out of it, cheeks redder than before and Tony watches him attempt to hide it by starting to take a drink from his glass. He downs the rest of the amber liquid, eyes screwed shut as the potent alcohol burns down his throat, and drops the glass onto the rug on the other side of the couch they’re sitting on. Then with a sigh, he leans forwards and places his forehead onto Tony’s shoulder.

He can smell his hair.

“I never thought I’d end up here,” Peter murmurs at his shoulder. “I must’ve spent an embarrassingly long time staring at this tower and wondering what it’d be like here, meeting you all, being one of you.”

Tony smiles down at the top of Peter’s head, unwanted bubbles of guilt popping in his stomach. 

“Was it all it cracked up to be?”

“No.” Tony’s eyebrows shoot up and Peter lifts his head up quickly, almost colliding with Tony’s chin, looking mortified. “N-No that’s not want I meant! It’s been good-- great, seeing you all, feeling noticed and wanted, I mean meeting you all has definitely topped anything else in my life, but you know, in the stupid scenes I made up in my head I always thought I’d be sitting here with Dr Banner or Maximoff or even Vision. I never even let myself think that it’d be...” Pete’s voice trails off and Tony thinks he might have finally realised how close their faces had gotten after he’d lifted his head up. Tony’s body had twisted round to face him and their noses are almost touching, knees pressed together and they’re exchanging breaths, Peter’s getting more and more erratic the longer the silence stretches on.

And Tony wants to tell himself that he could have moved back, should have moved, but he’d been too busy watching Peter’s face as he fumbled over his words, soaking up every quirk of his lips and flutter of eyelashes. 

“Why not?” Tony says, almost a whisper, into the small space between them, and he ignores the heat travelling up his spine, putting it down to the alcohol churning in his stomach. “Why couldn’t you imagine me sitting next to you?”

“B-Because… you’re Tony Stark. And Tony Stark wouldn’t want to spend time with a kid like me,” Peter whispers back, his words bouncing off of Tony’s lips. He can’t seem to meet Tony’s gaze, they’re looking at everywhere on his face but his eyes.

“Well, guess your brain was wrong.” Tony smirks and he watches Peter’s eyes snap straight to his lips. “Got nothing but time for you, kid.”

The alcohol between them makes the atmosphere heavy, overheated, eyes unfocused and never staying in one spot for too long. 

“Oh my God,” Peter whispers suddenly, a look of pure amazement on his face. 

“Hm?”

“Groot is the Whomping Willow.”

And the moment ends, both of them laughing so hard they’re gasping for air.


	6. Chapter 6

When Steve Rogers enters the lounge the next morning, the first thing that hits him is the strong smell of whiskey and when he looks around for the culprit, he notices the two unconscious lumps on the couch. He halts and lets out a snort.

Tony’s sleeping upright, head slumped against his shoulder, one hand dangling over the arm and the other resting next to Peter, whose head is resting in Tony’s lap, a pair of Tony’s purple-tinted sunglasses on his face. He’s lying flat on his back, hands folded over each other on his stomach.

“They’ve been like that since I woke up at 5AM. Didn’t really feel like disturbing them,” Bruce says from the kitchen counter, his hair sticking up and a mug of coffee in his hand. 

“It’s disgusting,” Natasha says, taking Bruce’s mug out of his hand and stealing a sip. “I hate that I find it cute.” Steve shakes his head and heads over to the kitchen counter for much-needed coffee. 

“What do you think happened?” He asks.

“The kid was probably stressed about tonight. Can’t explain Tony’s involvement though, didn’t figure him for the supportive kind,” Bruce replies, eyes casting over to the two sleeping men. 

“If anyone knows what Peter’s going through, it’s Tony,” Steve pushes a button on the coffee machine and leans back on the counter while he waits. “Though I guess Tony thrived on all the attention, it’s gonna be Peter’s worst nightmare.” He turns back around to add milk and sugar to the warm mug.

“Well, that’s sickeningly sweet,” Rocket’s voice quips from behind them as he enters the lounge. “I want to throw up and take a picture at the same time.” After a moment of consideration, he pulls out a device from his pocket and takes a photo, teeth baring slyly. His feet pat softly on the wooden floors as he walks away towards the kitchen and joins the rest of the team, who huddle into the kitchen and talk in low voices to avoid waking the pair on the sofa.

-x-

Peter stirs slowly and it’s taking a lot longer than usual, given that he was never a morning person to start with. His mouth feels like sandpaper and his head is fuzzy, like someone’s wrapped his brain in clouds.

Groaning, he turns over, wincing when the edge of something sharp stabs the bridge of his nose. Confused, he lifts his hands to his face and removes a pair of glasses. He slowly peels open his eyes and almost immediately closes them again after the light crucifies them. But he persists and tries to open them again to examine the object in his hand. 

It’s a pair of Tony Stark’s sunglasses.

That’s when he realises his pillow is moving, there’s hushed voices coming from the corner of the room and his soft mattress is a lot firmer than usual. He springs upwards quickly and immediately regrets it, vision going black for a split second, immense pressure throbbing in his head. He screws his eyes shut and pushes a hand against his forehead, waiting for it to subside.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.”

His eyes fly open and he looks straight at Tony Stark, looking much more collected and bright than he had any right to. As soon as he meets his eyes, he remembers everything that happened the night before and suddenly their predicament makes perfect sense. He fights back a blush, though his ears betray him.

He’d fallen asleep in Iron Man’s lap.

“I-I’m sorry for--” Peter gestures to Tony’s legs, cursing inwardly at himself. God, he was embarrassed. 

Tony waves a hand through the air dismissively, but says nothing, only rises from the sofa stiffly and lets out a big yawn.

“Ah, the princes arise!” Rocket shouts from the kitchen. 

Peter’s eyes snap to the kitchen, realising that everyone in the Tower had gathered there. They’d all seen how he’d been sleeping, how he’d used Tony Stark’s legs as a pillow and probably dribbled all over his pants.

“Cram it, rat, it’s too early for loud noises,” Tony grumbles, feet dragging himself to the kitchen beside them all.

“Sleep well?” Steve asks with a glint in his eye. Tony throws a glare at him.

“You try sleeping upright with a bowling ball for a head crushing your legs all night, then ask me that question again.”

Peter’s mortified. He’s absolutely mortified. Everyone in the kitchen can see his stricken face and they collapse into laughter.

“Mr Stark, I-I’m so, so sor--”

“I’m fucking with you, kid. Just come over here and get coffee.”

-x-

Tony hadn’t expected to wake up with Peter’s head in his lap. He’d never let anyone sleep next to him, they were always out of his bed before they could get comfortable. Having a person close to him when he was at his most vulnerable was an irrational fear he’d never been able to shake.

And yeah, technically sharing a sofa didn’t count, not really. But the fact he allowed himself to nod off with another human being in physical contact with him and didn’t once feel discomfort -- that was strange.

He watches as Peter mulls around the kitchen, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes across his face as he talked with everyone, probably still worried about the evening. But Peter was different, wasn’t he? Everyone in the room is fighting for his attention again, just like they always did when he entered a room. It was like he had some kind of aura that drew people to him and gave them an urge to make him smile, to make him laugh, to make him happy.

Peter was so easy to trust and somehow, Tony Stark had fallen into that trap and this stupid, bumbling kid from Queens had suddenly become the person Tony trusted most in the world.

Tony takes a sip of his coffee and turns away. There was not a chance in hell he was ever, _ ever, _going to admit that out loud.

-x-

Pepper straightens Peter’s black tie and runs her palm down it, flattening it against his crisp, white shirt. She grabs the lapels of his burgundy suit and pulls it closer together.

“Miss Potts, I can do this myself,” he says with a small smile. She smiles back and takes her hands off of him.

“Sorry, force of habit. Tonight’s a very important night, Peter. You ready?” Despite her words, she goes back to primping him, running her hands through his hair and picking at the loose strands, pulling them into place. Peter’s smile gets bigger.

“Yeah. Yeah, I actually am.” And he is. The amount of support he’d gotten today from everyone had slowly built his crumbling walls higher and higher until he felt as tall as a castle. He could do it. 

“Great.” She pats him on the shoulder and nods at the door behind him. “That’s the door to the front hall. There’s a curtain already set up for you to stand behind -- yeah, I know, sorry for the theatrics, it was Tony’s idea -- and we’ll open it once Tony’s done his thing.” She reaches past him to twist the door knob and it opens. A sudden rush of chatter and music fills the room, the sound of a party that had been going for a while. The sound chips away at Peter’s wall, but he sets his jaw and walks through. The voices and music suddenly thump in his ears and overwhelm his senses and the door closes behind him, closing him in. There’s a huge curtain in front of him, separating him from the rest of the hall, where the party was still in full swing. Now all he had to do was wait.

There’s only two other people behind the curtain, one with a headset and another holding a clipboard. One of them guide Peter to an ‘X’ on the floor.

“It’s beginning in a second,” the guy says before moving away, out of sight. Peter’s brave face threatens to slip for a second but he clears his throat, re-straightens his suit, and tries to calm his heart when the music fades out to nothing.

There’s cheers and applause and Peter watches on a screen by his head, seeing Tony step up onto a stage, settling in behind a podium. He doesn’t know how he’s standing there without squinting, camera’s clicking and flashing brightly on his face.

“Welcome ladies, gents, others. As you know, I love parties, always have, but I have a higher agenda. I know, I know, one day I’ll throw you all a party without having to make some big announcement. That’s not today, unfortunately. Today, I’m here to introduce you all to someone you’re probably already quite familiar with.” Peter’s heart is thundering in his chest, stomach in a thousand knots, hands clammy. He’s breathing heavier than usual and he can’t stop swallowing. _ This is it. _ “Well, tonights not about me or you. This is all about your friendly neighborhood Spiderman, ready to share his face with the world. It’s about time he got a little credit, don’t you think?” And then the huge, purple curtains are swishing open and the sound is deafening, camera’s blinding, and Peter has to urge his feet to step forwards onto the stage, schooling his facial expression as best he can.

There are _ so _many people. In between each camera flash he can see a sea of heads, though the dim light hides their faces from him, which he’s quite grateful for. Nervously, he raises a hand and smiles, pretending like he’s back at preschool on stage, at the end of their yearly performance. He can do that. He can pretend like he’s standing with twenty other students, away from the centre of attention, just how he likes it.

It’s still hard though, and his breathing is escalating, he’s panicking. An arm around his shoulders grounds him and he looks up at Tony, who’s looking back at him. And he looks almost _ proud. _

“You’re doing great, kid, just smile and look happy to be here,” Tony murmurs into his ear. Peter nods quickly, throwing him a quick, close-to-hysterical grin. After a few more minutes, the noise and flashing slows, and Tony squeezes his shoulder once before releasing him. “Got the guts to give ‘em a few words?”

Speak? In front of _ that _ many people? He opens his mouth to decline, but when he sees Tony’s shining eyes and big smile, he can’t do it. _ Man up, Peter. If Tony Stark can do it, you can. _

He approaches the podium, hands fiddling nervously with the buttons on his suit. He hates wearing suits, so constricting and _ wow, _it’s warm on stage. With a deep breath and one last glance at Tony, he forces himself to relax, closes his eyes for a second, and when he opens them again he’s ready. Focused.

First things first, he pulls off his suit jacket and discards it onto the floor beside him, pulling the tie looser, rubbing his stiff hair back into its usual place, and undoes the top few buttons of his shirt. 

“H-Hi, everyone,” Peter leans forwards into the mic. “I’m Peter Parker. I’m Spiderman.” 

This brings the crowd to more applause, giving Peter time to unbutton the cuffs on his shirt and roll them up. He waits for the noise to die down, grips onto the sides of the podium, and takes a breath.

-x-

Tony takes a few steps backwards and heads to the back of the stage, smirking as he watches Peter discard of the suit he’d been in for less than five minutes. It had stunned Tony, for a minute, when the curtains had been drawn open and the excitable boy he’d seen around the Tower was suddenly this _ man, _ hair combed to the side and suit fitted perfectly to his lean torso and long legs. He was almost unrecognisable. But as Peter strips off the jacket, undoes the tie and rolls the sleeves up, Tony realises that when he looks like _ that _, it’s even clearer that the ‘kid’ they’d all been coddling was definitely, definitely not a child. 

His mouth is dry, which he chalks down to his little speech earlier because what else could it be, and he looks around for a waiter. A flute of champagne shows up under his nose. Steve Rogers is smiling at him, hand outstretched.

With a nod, Tony takes it from him and downs half the glass, like a man starved for liquid.

“He looks different, huh?” Steve says from next to him, looking at Peter’s back. The crowd dies down and Tony doesn’t reply, waiting for Peter to talk.

_ Do it, kid. _

“I want to thank you all for being here. And I also-- I want you to know that I didn’t want to do this,” Peter lets out a nervous laugh and the room chuckles with him. It seems to boost his confidence a bit. “I like being Spiderman, helping people. I just... I don’t do it for this. For the cameras and stuff-- not that that’s a problem! And I didn’t do it so I could meet the Avengers, though it’s definitely a bonus,” the room laughs again. Peter’s smile falls from his face a little and he casts his eyes downwards. He’s quiet for a moment, fighting with himself about whether to say what he’s thinking. When he looks back up, his gaze is firm. “I do it for my uncle. He passed away. He died trying to help someone, a complete stranger, and I don’t want anyone else to ever go through what I had to. He was always helping people and putting others before himself.” Peter’s throat bobs as he swallows, his eyes glistening. He sniffs and looks back up to the crowd, smiling. “‘With great power comes great responsibility’ he’d said to me once. And I live by that. And you know-- I’m gonna try and be Spiderman for as long as I can, no matter what happens, so I’m always there to help the little guys. Because they’re the ones that matter to me. Because despite who I am, I’m still just a little guy too.” He finishes with a nod and a shy smile. The crowd erupts and Peter blushes and bends down to pick up his discarded suit jacket. He waves once more to everyone and then scurries off stage as fast as his legs can carry him.

Tony is there with a chair and he pushes Peter into it the moment he’s back behind the curtain, which is closing in front of them. Tony can’t wipe the smile off of his face. _ Absolutely perfect. _

Peter’s panting, hanging his head between his suit pants, hands tangled in his mussed hair. 

“Oh god, oh god, I can’t believe I just did that, I can’t believe that just happened, wow…” Peter’s muttering under his breath, still struggling to come back down from the high. Tony bends down to his level and puts a warm hand on his knee, squeezing it gently, bringing Peter’s erratic mind back to Earth.

“That was phenomenal,” Tony says quietly and Peter finally lifts his head. His cheeks are flushed, eyes bright and wide, hair in complete disarray, teeth biting his lip in nervousness. Tony’s speechless for a moment, just takes him in, the open shirt, the light sheen of nervous sweat, the reddening bottom lip.

“You did great, kid.” Steve’s voice cuts in and Tony clears his throat, standing to his feet. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a response like that from any of my speeches.”

“That’s because you’re not a likable person, Steve,” Tony quips and winces when Steve punches him in the shoulder. He throws a smirk at him and then grabs Peter’s arm, hauling him out his chair. “Come on, Pete, time for you to go and do the rounds. I’m sure nobody will bat an eye if you steal a bit of champagne too. Lets go.”

And that’s how Peter ends up walking through a big pair of double doors to the main hall with Tony’s arm practically linked through his.


	7. Chapter 7

Peter’s lost count of how many people he’s been introduced to in the last hour, the level of the person getting more and more important as Tony went on.

He just about ready to give up once Tony introduces him to the Secretary of Defense, his heart unable to handle meeting so many big titles, when he spots a familiar head in the crowd. He watches as the head turns and then he can see another familiar face next to them.

“I-I’m sorry, Sir, Mr Stark, I’ve got to--” And then Peter’s worming his way through everyone, ignoring the way some of them say his name or attempt to halt him. He bursts through a circle of socialising suits and sees his two best friends standing there, grinning at him.

He says nothing, just throws himself forwards a little too forcefully, capturing MJ and Ned in the tightest hug he can muster.

“God, I’ve missed you guys so much,” he murmurs, tucking his head in between theirs. Both of their hands come up to his back and they hug back twice as tight.

“You’ve shot up the social ladder in one night, Parker, you sure you want to be seen with a couple of losers like us?” MJ teases, pulling away and punching him in the shoulder. Peter grins. He looks at his two best friends, dressed up for the event. MJ has a floor-length, simple purple gown with a slit up one side and Ned’s wearing a black shirt tucked into black pants. He’s never seem them look so smart.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” Ned says in a small voice, gazing around the room. “This is mad. This is crazy.”

“Yeah, I’ve been saying that to myself every time I wake up in the morning,” Peter replies breathlessly. The two of them can’t help it, and a smile splits across both of their faces. Peter takes his best friend in for another hug, MJ watching with an affectionate twitch around her lips.

“You realise you just blew off the Secretary of Defense? I mean, kudos to you, kid, I don’t even have the balls to do that,” says a voice from behind them. Peter lets go of Ned and turns around to look at Tony, and he can’t even bring himself to care about how impolite he’d been. 

“I’m sorry, Mr Stark, I just-- It’s been almost a month since I’ve seen my friends--”

“Ah, yes, Mr Leeds and Miss Jones.” Tony holds out a hand for Ned to shake, oblivious to the way he’d completely frozen over in the presence of him. MJ jumps in front of Ned and takes Tony’s hand instead, saving the situation.

“MJ, please,” she says coolly, gripping his hand firmly. Tony smirks.

“Good handshake there. Always a sign of strong character.”

“My dad always said a good handshake establishes the pecking order of the social interaction before you even know eachothers names.” Tony’s eyebrows shoot up.

“And if I may, who’s at the bottom of this pecking order you’ve just created?” Tony asks. She smirks at him, but remains silent. “I like her,” Tony says, pointing a finger at MJ and looking over at Peter in approval.

“Yeah, so do I.” 

Tony holds his hand out at Ned, who seems to have recovered from the shock and awe slightly. With a trembling hand, he finally reaches up and takes it.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Stark, sir,” Ned wheezes, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his head. Tony nods and then releases his hand, clapping his own together.

“Right! Well, seeing as though you’ll be under our protection for a while, I don’t see why you can’t join your little buddy up in Stark Tower for a night. Eat too much sugar, stay up all night, whatever it is you kids do. Ah, I can see Nat, I’ve got to go and compliment her in her dress or she’ll slit my throat in my sleep. Have a good night.” He starts to walk away, swinging around and walking backwards to throw a one-fingered salute in their direction before turning back and disappearing into the crowd.

Peter stands with his friends in silence for a moment, taking in the completely bizarre situation they were in. 

“I think I weed a little bit,” Ned croaks, and the moment ends, all of them laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes.

-x-

MJ and Ned make their way up to their new accommodation, leaving Peter behind in the hall of people, which was slowly dwindling. He’d insisted on staying, feeling bad for not meeting everyone Tony had intended for him to meet.

He’s standing at the edge of the hall, eyes scanning the crowd for anyone familiar, champagne glass in his hand. He’s quite content, hiding in a corner, finally able to breathe for the first time all night. The hard part was over, he’d done it.

“It’s quite difficult, trying to feel comfortable in a room with all of these rich, pig-headed people, isn’t it?” A familiar voice says from next to him. Peter jumps, a bit of champagne sloshing on his wrist. Mr Diaz is looking down at him, a smile on his face.

“Mr Diaz! H-How--”

“I’m here as a representative for Little Corp. I have to say, Mr Parker, that this was definitely one of the rare things in my life that genuinely surprised me.” He takes a sip of his drink, eyes twinkling. “Though now that I know who you are, it makes perfect sense.”

Peter sends him a sad smile. “I guess this means I’m fired?”

“Probably. Though that won’t be because of any decision I make. Anyone close to Tony Stark is generally frowned upon at Little Corp. Such a shame, too, I really was looking forward to having you as my assistant.”

Peter’s eyebrows shoot up and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Me? I was going to be your assistant?”

Mr Diaz nods and leans against the wall next to him, gaze searching over the heads of everyone in front of them. Peter looks up at his sharp jawline and the tight, black tuxedo he was wearing. He’d never seen him out of his lab coat and he cleaned up nice.

“Thank you,” Peter hears himself saying suddenly. Mr Diaz looks down at him and there’s something about his dark eyes that Peter hates, because he finds it incredibly hard to look away. He swallows. “I-- Thank you for noticing me when I was just Peter Parker.”

Mr Diaz hands his empty glass to a waiter whose passing them and turns to face him, keeping one shoulder resting on the wall. He tips his head closer to Peter’s, eyes searching his nervous face, a smirk on his lips.

“Sometimes you’ve got to look out for the little guys,” he whispers, gaze falling and settling on Peter’s mouth. Peter’s spine tingles and he’s fighting to find words to say, because he was sure Mr Diaz looked like he wanted to _ \-- _

“Pete! You know, hiding away in dark corners is a great way to attract creeps-- Oh, sorry, you’ve got company.” Tony’s voice snaps Peter’s attention away from the man opposite him and no, Tony doesn’t sound apologetic at all, in fact, he sounds  _ pissed.  _ Tony sidles up to him and pulls him into his side, hand gripping his shoulder possessively. “You are?”

Mr Diaz’s smile tightens, Tony’s jab not going unmissed, but he holds a hand out nonetheless. “Hugo Diaz, Little Corp.”

A twisted smile spreads across Tony’s face and he looks down at Mr Diaz’s hand like he’d just handed him something filthy. He doesn’t shake it. “Of course, that makes perfect sense. You know Peter?”

“He’s my boss,” Peter cuts in, moving away from Tony’s tight grip to stand in front of Mr Diaz, bristling a little at the older man’s attitude. “He was going to make me his assistant.”

“I’m sure he was,” Tony grits out, hard eyes never leaving Mr Diaz’s. “Such a shame, Peter’s going to be working for me now. Guess you’ll have to find a new young, pretty plaything.”

Okay. That was--

Peter clenches his jaw, ignoring the heat engulfing his face, and  _ glares.  _ That’s what Tony thinks of him? That he’d been picked out by Mr Diaz not because of his skills, but because Mr Diaz just wanted someone  _ young  _ and  _ pretty  _ around him. Suddenly, Peter doesn’t want to be there anymore, looking at the man who had sent disappointment coursing through his bones. He stalks past Tony, discarding the glass in his hand on a nearby counter, and heads to the doors. He pushes them open a little too forcefully and they crash against the wall, sending splinters through the wood, and then he runs.

-x-

Tony had been chatting with Fitz and Simmons when his eyes had fallen on Peter tucked away in the corner of the hall, a middle-aged man propped up on the wall next to him. And although what Fitz and Simmons were saying was actually the most interesting thing he’d heard all evening, he couldn’t stop his eyes flickering to the two men in the corner.

It was only when he saw the man tip his head closer to Peter’s that he sprung into action, pressing his drink into Fitz’s hands and taking off, oblivious to the fact he’d left mid-conversation. God, there were too many people between him and Peter, and the guy was getting closer and closer, and Tony’s stomach was churning more and more. 

When he got there, he hadn’t been able to hold his tongue, words falling from his mouth before processing in his brain. All he could concentrate on was how  _ goddamn angry  _ he was feeling, only increasing when he realised the guy who had been leering over Peter was not only his boss, but was actually  _ attractive. _

He hadn’t meant to upset Peter - that was the last thing he’d wanted. He’d seen someone taking advantage of the kid, vulnerable and emotional, and had jumped to his defense. But instead of being his knight in shining armour, he’d put his foot in his mouth and Peter was actually  _ angry  _ with him.

“He’s a bright kid.” He’d forgotten he was still standing in front of Peter’s ex-boss. 

“I know,” Tony replies, hands itching at his sides. He still wants to punch the slimy creep standing in front of him. 

“Which is why I wanted him as my assistant.” Hugo’s sad, sympathetic smile suddenly contorts and it sends a deathly cold shiver down Tony’s spine. He recoils when Hugo leans forwards, eyes dark and hungry. “Of course, everything else is just a bonus.”

And then he’s turning and walking away from Tony, leaving him standing there feeling like someone has reached into his guts and stirred them around. Damn it, he was right; the guy is most definitely  _ not  _ good. And Peter had no idea.

The feeling of regret lessens a little, now that he knows he was right for interrupting. But that doesn’t fix the fact that the doors to Hall One were hanging off, unfortunate casualties of Peter’s anger.

Tony runs a hand over his face and picks up two champagne flutes for a passing waiter, chugging them both and then passing them back.

He had to go and talk to him.

-x-

Peter was going to finish his night with MJ and Ned, huddled in his room up in Stark Tower, where he could just be himself for a while. They were his anchor; the doorway to the life before he’d been shot. Being around them eased a knot in his spine that he hadn’t known was there.

But instead of going back to his room to spend a nice night with his friends, he was swinging through the city, the wind rumbling through his ears, buffering away his anger.

He’d been under the impression that Tony appreciated his skills. He hadn’t wanted to assume, but to be offered a job without an interview or without the qualifications? He thought Tony had seen through Spiderman and seen Peter Parker. But after what he’d said to Mr Diaz, he wasn’t so sure. 

He wasn’t stupid, he knew Tony had a repuation. Didn’t play well with others. But everything he’d seen in the last month, how he’d been with everyone, he knew that was just what Tony had wanted others to see. 

How he’d acted to Mr Diaz, acted like he was beneath him, accusing him of things Peter doesn’t even want to think about… Was that the real Tony Stark?

He lands in a familiar street and looks up at the apartment block, ignoring the whispers of people who passed by. His aunt was probably sitting inside, watching the news, wondering how the boy she raised could have kept something so huge from her. Was she disappointed? Angry? 

But he needed her, more than anything else in the world right now. He’d take whatever she threw at him, as long as he could be in her presence.

He rips his mask off, fires a web at the open window, and flies through.

His heart aches at the familiar surroundings, the familiar smell, and his eyes fall on his aunt, who’s sitting on their tattered, threadbare sofa, her head facing the television. Peter’s face is on screen and the news reporter is waffling on about the ‘new Avenger’. He can hear May sniffling.

“May.” She lets out a yelp of surprise and leaps to her feet, sagging with relief when she realises it’s just Peter. She’s been crying, her eyes red and cheeks blotchy. Peter’s immediately hit with a surge of guilt. “May, I’m sorry.”

She stands there for a moment, looking at his red and blue suit, the mask in his hand. Her bottom lip starts to wobble and then she pushes forwards, walking over to Peter and pulling him into a hug.

“Oh, Peter,” She murmurs into his ear, squeezing him. “You should have told me.”

He closes his eyes, breathes in her hair and returns the hug.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

She pulls back from the hug to smack him on the chest, giving him a watery smile. “I worried anyway, Peter! Sneaking out, bruises and cuts, always looking guilty. Do you have any idea how many things ran through me head?! I thought you were into some bad stuff--” She laughs and pulls him into a hug. “Turns out you’re just a hero.”

Peter feels stupid for ever thinking she’d hate him. She was Aunt May, supportive and stubborn and understanding. He clutches her closer to him.

“Thanks, May.” She moves back to grasp both of his shoulders, eyes roving over Peter’s face and body. Peter knew the look; it was what she did every time he woke up in the morning or walked through the door. Checking that he was safe and unhurt.

“So you’ve been at Stark Tower all this time?” She asks, wiping the last of her tears out of her eyes. She moves to the kitchen and starts making them a cup of coffee each, without Peter even having to ask.

“Yeah, Mr Stark told me I wasn’t allowed to leave, there was--” Peter stops talking, casting his eyes over to May, hoping she’d not noticed his sudden withdrawal. He was wrong. She’s frowning at him.

“What? Why couldn’t you leave? Did he keep you there against your will, Peter?”

“No! No-- it wasn’t anything like that, May. There was someone out there trying to hurt me-- hurt the Avengers. It was for my own safety.” He sighs at the look on her face. “May, you’ve seen what they face. The kind of things they go up against to save the world. I just got caught in the crossfire.”

“Because of your…” May gestures in his general direction and then turns back around to make up the cups of coffee.

“Yeah.” May’s quiet and Peter can almost hear her mind running a hundred miles a minute.

“Are you comfortable there?” She asks eventually, turning around with two mugs in her hands. She passes one to Peter, expression serious.

“I-- Yeah, I am.” She nods in understanding, taking a sip from her cup. Her finger taps on the edge of it in thought.

“Then you should stay there,” she says. Peter nearly spits out his mouthful of coffee. 

“W-What? May, I can’t just move in, I don’t even know if Mr Stark wants me there--”

“He keeps everyone else there, right? Captain America, the Hulk… They all live there.” She shrugs leans back against the counter, warming both of her hands on her mug. “Why not you?”

“I just…” Peter looks down, thinking of the events that evening and grits his teeth, “I don’t know if this is a permanent thing.”

“Don’t be silly, if they’re happy to keep a big green monster in that tower with them all, they’ll take you.” Peter laughs and drinks half of his mug of coffee in one go, the heat not a problem for him. The burn travels down his throat, settling in his stomach and making him feel warm. There was something about the way that May made coffee; it settled every nerve in his body and made him feel like he was wrapped in a warm blanket..

“It’s not my home, May, My home’s here.”

“Peter, you’re gonna have to leave the nest eventually, why not now?” She smiles sadly at him. “I’ll be fine. Go on.” She takes the finished mug from Peter’s hand and puts it in the sink. “You’ve got places to be, Spiderman.”

Peter smiles at her and takes her hand, squeezing it lightly, looking down at her worn fingers. Then he places a swift kiss to the side of her head and approaches the window, ignoring her look of disapproval.

“We have a front door, Peter.” 

He grins at her and then puts his mask back over his face. He’s about to step off the ledge when he hesitates.

“Oh, May?” He turns back to her. “A car will be coming to pick you up tomorrow. You’ve got to stay at Stark Tower for a little while. I’m sorry!” He backflips out of the window.

The look on her face still has Peter laughing as he swings back to Stark Tower. And just like that, what had happened that evening is forgotten and Peter’s smiling, pulling his mask off to feel the cool breeze on his face.


	8. Chapter 8

Peter’s not there when Tony goes to the top of Stark Tower to find him. His door is ajar and the light is on, but the room’s empty.

With a sigh, he undoes the knot in the tie around his neck and unbuttons his collar, laying back on the sofas in the lounge with his head pointed up the ceiling.

By tomorrow evening, Peter was going to be a celebrity. He’d constantly be in the limelight for the rest of his life, cameras in his face and every word he said being taken out of context to plaster over magazine covers. Not that Tony thought that was ever going to be a problem for Peter; he was blunt, truthful, caring. It was only Tony who’d suffered at the hands of petty, greedy reporters.

He’d only known him a month but damn if he hadn’t grown on him - grown one everyone. He’d even seen Nebula spending time with him willingly - something he was sure she only did with her sister and occasionally, himself. Perhaps it was some kind of spider-magic, drawing in prey to the predator.

He snorts at that and shakes his head, standing up from the sofa. Peter, a predator, was the most ridiculous thing his brain had ever conjured up.

The sudden sound of softened footsteps across the carpet captures his attention and he sees Peter walking past, Spider-suit on and mask in his hand. He’s stalking past Tony, eyes deliberately not even glancing in his direction.

“Hey, kid! Hey, wait,” Tony captures up with him and grabs him by the bicep. Peter shakes him off with ease, but stops and turns to look at him nonetheless. He doesn’t look as angry as he had in the hall, but it’s so much worse - he looks disappointed. Tony doesn’t realise he’s just standing there, words stuck in his throat, until Peter speaks up again.

“I’m going to bed,” He turns to walk away again. Tony grabs him, flips him around.

“I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t mean--” Tony closes his eyes for a beat, breathes in through his nose, “Look, I’ve been a part of the rich and famous circle for a while. Met all kinds of people. Most of them great, others not so much. I look over and there’s a dude twice your age leaning over you, after you’ve just ripped yourself open and exposed yourself in front of the world? What did you think I was going to do, watch it happen?”

“Mr Stark, with all due respect,” Peter says quietly, eyes dark, “I could break your wrist before you took your next breath. I think I can handle myself.” 

Tony’s entire body flushes and he stares back at the boy -  _ man -  _ in front of him, looks at the tight jaw and hard eyes. He was right - he could pick Tony up and throw him out of the nearest window if he wanted to. But that wasn’t the point.

“Pete, just because you can kill someone with your pinkie doesn’t mean they can’t get in your head. That guy? Your boss? You like him?”

Peter’s hard facade chinks away a bit and he looks away. “Yeah, I do. He was the first person to see me as Peter Parker and not Spiderman.”

Tony’s lets out a breath, “Kid, he’s not good. He talked to me after you left and you should have seen him, he looked--” And then Tony stops, realisation dawning.  _ No.  _ His feet are carrying him before he can realise he’s moving, pushing past Peter, brain running a million miles. He runs into the elevator, hammering the button to his lab as fast as he could.

The doors start to close but a pair of hands appear in the gap, pulling them back open with ease. Peter’s breathless from trying to catch him.

“What’s happening?”

“Just-- Just get in,” Tony leans forwards and pulls him in by the arm, letting the doors close. The elevator is moving too damn slow and Tony taps on the floor impatiently.

Peter stays quiet, thankfully, though it looks like he’s waiting to ask a million questions. The doors open and Tony’s running again, the lab doors opening on his approach and then he’s at his main desk, swiping both of his hands in front of him and bringing up all of his screens. He types in a name and sits back and waits.

Peter’s behind him, watching, and when he sees the name Tony types in, he opens his mouth to protest. The computer beeps and he clamps it shut. Hugo Diaz’s file is up on screen; qualifications, sealed work malpractice lawsuits, date of birth, parentage, everything.

“Hugo Diaz, formal warning for the creation of deadly bio-chemical ammunition, turned down by--” Tony swallows, “Turned down by me, back in 2006. He used Hammer Industries’ resources without permission, got thrown out on his ass. The product was labelled too dangerous, if smuggled to terrorists, who could have turned it into a gaseous form and wiped out entire villages in seconds with no casualty to structures.” He sucks in a breath and despite the situation, lets out a laugh. “We found him. It’s him. It’s got to be.”

Peter’s deathly silent next to him and that’s when Tony realises the situation. A person Peter had begun to thought of as his mentor had  _ shot  _ him. Had complimented him to his face, praised his work like no one else had before, and then tried to kill him.

“Pete, this is good-- I mean, it’s not but it is.”

Pete nods stiffly, face ashen white and fists clenched tightly at his side. Tony puts his glasses on and double taps the side of them.

“Friday, locate Hugo Diaz.” The lab is silent while he waits for her response.

“ _ Sir, it appears he is untraceable.”  _ Tony’s eyebrows raise - that hadn’t happened before.

“What do you mean? Check all the CCTV in the area, the car he arrived to the party in, everything.”

_ “That’s just it, Sir. He doesn’t appear in any of the footage.”  _ She brings up a video of the hall from a few hours ago and zooms in on Peter standing in the corner. He’s standing alone, and it looks like he’s talking to himself, but Tony knows he’s not crazy, knows that Hugo Diaz had been right next to him. 

“Friday, bring it up on the big screen.”

The CCTV footage plays and him and Peter watch as the scene from earlier unfolds, but they look crazy; they’re talking to a ghost.

“H-How?” Peter croaks. “He was there, I know he was.”

“Now I  _ really  _ don’t like this guy,” Tony says, throwing himself into a nearby chair. “Pete, I know he’s your old boss and mentor or whatever else, but you gotta tell me if he’s ever pulled this Houdini crap before. Think hard.”

Peter pulls up another stool and sits next to him, propping his feet up on the bar near the base of it, hands between his legs and fiddling with his mask anxiously.

“I don’t-- I mean, I didn’t really see him much. He was always in his office, barely talked to us, just kinda sat in there.”

“He wasn’t working on something behind closed doors? He’s a scientist, Peter, in so many different fields, he could have created any sort of cocktail to put into his body. We need to know if he’s some super-human freak - no offense - before we go and take him in.”

“He had a tiny lab in the corner of his office, but it looked pretty unused. I don’t really think he did anything,” Peter lets out a humorless huff. “I can’t believe this is even happening.”

Tony pushes his feet against his desk, rocking his chair backwards and forwards. “Alright, we can’t just sit here on our asses, we’ve got a baddie to catch. Friday, assemble the Avengers, pronto.”

“ _ Sir, we’ve already received a request to assemble,”  _ She replies. Tony sits up straight in his chair, his feet going back to the floor, and he shares a worried glance with Peter.

“What? When?”

“ _ Twenty-one seconds ago.” _

Tony resists the urge to rip his glasses off of his face and tread on them. God, he missed Jarvis sometimes.

“Friday, why have we been called in?”

“ _ There’s been an attack. I’m sorry, Sir, but someone has been hit. It was fatal.” _

-x-

Hugo Diaz sits in the back of a taxi with a large case beside him, a satisfied smile on his face. He watches the lights of the shops and nightlife flash past the window and takes a long, deep breath. It’d been a good night; a productive night. He was certain that he’d done it, finally. Even Tony Stark, a man who had so easily turned him down years ago, had not been clever enough to counter his methods. He’d one-upped the man who had never been beaten and  _ wow  _ it was a good feeling.

His left hand starts to spasm and he flinches, scrabbling inside his suit jacket for a syringe. He casts one wary glance to the taxi driver but he’s busy talking into his hands-free headset. The needle pinches when he inserts it into the inside of his arm, but once the serum is in his body, all he can feel is relief. His left hand has stopped twitching.

“This will do fine, thank you,” he says politely to the driver. He chucks him a bill and leaves the taxi, staring up at his hotel for the night. He can see the chandeliers in the lobby and the marble floors, the people walking on it wearing clothes that were probably worth more than all of his own clothes put together.

He pushes open the doors, straightening his tuxedo, and walks straight toward the elevator. Every camera he passes, he gives it a sly smile, knowing full well that none of them could see his form. 

It didn’t matter how hard Tony Stark looked, didn’t matter how good his tech was at facial recognition, he was never, ever going to be found, not unless he wanted to.

  
And he was going to continue to take out the Avengers - the  _ stain  _ on humanity - until he took his last dying breath.


	9. Chapter 9

They’re all there, surrounding the bed, an almost-tangible feeling of grief and sorrow coating every inch of the room.

“I...I thought we were safe,” Peter’s voice is quiet, too quiet, but everyone hears him. Tony is stiff next to him, mouth set in a hard line and eyes like wildfire.

“He couldn’t have made a different serum, not this fast, not with enough elements changed to counteract the vaccine--”

“Well, smartass, he did,” Rocket replies bluntly, eyes never leaving the body on the bed in front of them. “He did, and now we’ve lost…” He trails off and shakes his head, turning away. He takes a deep breath. “Damn it.”

Peter had avoided looking at the person on the bed in front of them, the burning in his eyes telling him he was already close enough to tears. But he knew he should - out of respect. He takes his gaze off of the cupboard on the wall and looks at the still figure in front of him.

Nebula looks peaceful, her usual-scowl eased away in death, eyes closed. Even with all of the metal parts, she looks human. Peter sniffs and wipes the tears out of his eyes before anyone notices. 

“What the hell am I supposed to tell Gamora?” Rocket groans, putting his head in his hands, “She just got her sister back, they were doing so-- Ugh!” He kicks a nearby table, but it doesn’t even topple over. So he picks it up and throws it across the room. Everyone stands there, unflinching.

“I am Groot,” Groot agrees, sniffing and wiping a branch across his eye. 

“Rocket, there was nothing we could have done--” Steve begins.

“Yes, yes there was. You could have told us it still wasn’t safe. Brightest brains on Earth, my ass.” Rocket pointedly glares at Tony, Bruce and Peter. The look pierces through Peter’s heart and the unbearable heaviness of pure guilt spreads from his chest to the rest of his bones, turning his legs to jelly and sending shocks through his head. No, I didn’t mean to, we tried, god, how were we supposed to know, I’m so so sorry--

Tony’s hand on his shoulder jerks him out of his pit of self-loathing and he steps in front of him.

“You leave the kid out of this, you leave all of us out of this. You telling me you’ve never lost someone in a fight you weren’t prepared for? Just because we’re not on a battlefield right now doesn’t mean we’re not at war. So shove your ridiculous comments up your furry ass and go and cool off.” 

Rocket does the opposite. He stalks up to Tony, tiny paws clenched into fists, and when he has to look up at Tony to look him in the eyes he does so, completely unfazed by the height difference.

“I wonder,” he growls, “if it was your boy lying there, dead, would you be telling yourself the same thing?”

Steve lurches forward and grabs Tony’s fist at the exact same time that Peter does, stopping what was bound to be the start of a very ugly fight.

“Not here, Tony, not next to…” Steve drifts off, staring over at the bed. “He’s grieving, leave it be.”

Rocket sneers at Tony, looking only mildly disappointed that the fist never reached his face, and stalks out of the room, Groot following closely behind. 

Steve and Peter let go of his clenched fist when he starts to move it back to his side again. Peter swallows, staring at the side of Tony’s face in worry.

‘Your boy’?

Tony squeezes the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep breath, before leaving the room himself. Peter watches as the rest of the team seem to blindly follow, like Tony had issued a wordless order, and decides to follow suit.

They make their way to lounge, no one really feeling like sitting down and relaxing. All of their shoulders are lined with grief and stress. Tony sits though, slumps straight back onto the sofa and lets out another sigh.

“Hugo Diaz, that’s who did this,” he says. “Peter’s old boss. Don’t ask me how I know, I just want you to get on this.” He looks pointedly at Natasha. “He’s gonna know we’re onto him now, so I need you do your secret-spy thing and go and search his office, then do whatever you can to find him. Rogers will come with you.” Natasha nods.

“What about Friday? He’s just a normal guy, is he that hard to track down?” Bruce asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Tony shakes his head. “He’s invisible on camera - I know, Banner, it’s a messed up situation - we need to do it the old fashioned way. Pictures and knocking on doors.”

“We can’t just go knocking on people’s doors, Tony, we’re not exactly unrecognisable,” Steve adds, looking around at everyone in the room. All of their faces had been plastered across the television in one way or the other and there was no hiding who they were - they were the saviors of the Earth, after all.

Peter stands there, wishing, hoping that they’d waited at least one more day to show his face, because he could have helped. His eyes go to Tony when he realises he’s stiffened, finger pressed to his ear. Friday was talking to him. His face goes through several different emotions; irritation, thought, and then his eyes widen, gaze falling onto Peter. 

“What?” 

“Your co-workers are here, with your aunt, and your buddies are all settled in too,” He says, “You know, they’re just sitting there, waiting around, probably bored out of their minds--”

“No way,” Peter interrupts, shaking his head, “No, Mr Stark, I’m not going to put them in danger--”

“We’ll put a protection detail on them from a distance, they’ll be fine,” Tony argues.

“Can’t we just call the cops? Get them to do it?” Peter’s starting to panic now, because he knows, he knows what Tony is saying is a good idea.

“The last time we dragged the cops into a problem we had, it caused widespread panic across New York. But you know, if that’s what you want, go right ahead.” Tony’s starting to get a bit irritated with Peter’s reluctance to involve his family and friends, and it shows. 

“I don’t-- I really don’t want to--”

“Kid,” It’s Steve Rogers this time, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder comfortingly. “They’ll be fine. How about we ask them, see what their stance is on this? Wouldn’t it be easier to make a decision if you knew how they felt?”

And weirdly enough, that’s what does it. Peter feels better about the idea already. He smiles up at Steve.

“Okay. Thank you.”

Steve claps him on the shoulder once more and nods at Tony, who’s staring at their exchange in disbelief. Like he couldn’t believe it had been that easy. Looking slightly more annoyed than before, he stands up and claps his hands together.

“Great, lets get on with--”

“Tony, it’s 9PM, I don’t think anyone’s going to be ready to go out knocking on doors,” Natasha points out, nodding her head towards the clock. 

“Then they can start scouting bars, nightclubs, whatever they can--”

“No.” Peter doesn’t even realise he’d said his objection out loud until he notices everyone in the room staring at him, including Tony. “We’re not sending my friends and family out into New York City at night; I’ve been out there, I know how bad it gets. They stay here. We can start in the morning?”

It was strange. Like he’d said some kind of incantation to make everyone in the room start moving, heading towards their rooms and muttering goodnights to each other. They’d just done what he’d said, no questions asked.

Tony’s the only one left, standing there speechless.

“What just happened?” He says eventually. Peter answers him with a shrug. “No, I mean, what the hell was that-- you just say and they do? What kind of superpower is that?”

“Maybe they’re just tired.” Tony lets out a laugh at that, shaking his head before walking away to his own room, muttering under his breath.

And then Peter’s alone in the lounge, having just accidentally sent the freakin’ Avengers to bed.

-x-

Peter and the rest of the team are standing on the helipad at Stark Tower watching an actual spaceship land. Well, the spaceship that led to the bigger spaceship, which was waiting outside of the Earth’s atmosphere, somewhere up in space. Which Peter didn’t think he’d ever get over. 

Rocket and Groot are standing and watching too, with one small bag of luggage between them and - Peter swallows - the large, white box which Nebula was lying in. Gamora’s gonna want to see her, Rocket had said to them and Tony had nodded and arranged for her to be placed into a freezer specifically made for preserving bodies. Something Peter was going to ask Tony about later because was that something he’d just had lying around?

The ship lands and suddenly it all seems much too quiet. Rocket turns to look at them while Groot starts to load up the ship with the white container.

“This is my ride. Thanks for everything - or nothing. I’m not even sure anymore. I’ll probably stop being mad at you all in a year or two, which is actually pretty good for me.” He seems to consider something for a second before moving forwards and holding a paw out to Steve. Then he walks along, shaking everyone’s hand in turn, though he strolls right past Tony and straight to Peter.

Rocket reaches Peter and bows.

“Spiderman. It’s been an honor.” He yelps in surprise when Peter bends down and pulls him into a hug. There’s tears prickling at the back of Peter’s eyes and he squeezes Rocket tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and he feels Rocket’s paws come up around his back and squeeze. When they part, Rocket’s turning his face away and rubbing at his eyes, sniffing casually. 

“Such a kid,” He says with no bite. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He pulls his backpack off of his back and unzips it, pulling out a small photo frame. He passes it to Peter. “I got this for ya. Better treasure it. I’ll catch you later, webs.” He salutes and makes his way to the dropship on the helipad.

Peter looks down at the frame in his hand and his mouth drops open. It’s a photo of the morning after he and Tony had gotten drunk, Peter’s head in his lap with Tony’s sunglasses on and Tony slumped to the side, both of them fast asleep. Peter’s chest tightens.

When he looks back up to Rocket, the racoon is watching him at the door to the dropship. Rocket throws him a wink and then the door hisses as it closes behind him. Peter doesn’t watch the ship take off; he’s looking back down at the photo in his hands and trying so, so hard to stop his heart from pounding so loud.

-x-

Peter taps his foot impatiently against the carpet, elbows on knees, hands clasped together and pushed to his mouth, eyes constantly drifting to the elevator. Tony’s in the armchair near him, tapping away on his phone without a care in the world. Natasha and Steve were probably off destroying Mr Diaz’s office and Bruce was in the lab trying to research everything he could about the methods he’d used to become invisible on camera. Peter felt absolutely useless.

The door to the lounge opens and he jumps to his feet immediately, unable to hold in the huge grin on his face at the sight of Ned, MJ, Saul and Kate walking through the doors. His feet itch to run and hug them all, but he restrains himself, letting Tony step forwards to greet them.

“Welcome, friends of Peter.” He bows dramatically, smirking up at them. They’re all looking around the lounge, jaws dropped, amazed at the lavish decorations and expensive furniture. Peter knows how jarring it was, to be dropped into a place so beautiful, after growing up in places where everything was secondhand or broken. 

Peter walks up to Tony’s side and finally caves, leaning in to pull Saul and Kate into a hug, despite the fact he’d never breached the physical barrier before. They don’t seem to mind, both of them patting him on the back.

“Well, I have to admit, I didn’t expect to see you on the news yesterday,” Saul says as he and Kate pull away, smirking at him. Peter laughs nervously.

“Yeah, things happened. It was about time--” He’s cut off when Kate pulls him into another hug, tightly. He stands still for a moment, shocked at the sudden tightness of it. 

“Thank you. For my mother. And I’m so sorry about your uncle,” She whispers into his ear with her timid, quiet voice, clenching him tighter. Peter can’t help the blush that spreads across the tops of his cheeks and returns the hug.

“It’s fine. It’s all fine,” he whispers back, stroking a thumb across her shoulder blade comfortingly. She pulls away, giving him a small, thankful smile.

“Parker, you replacing us? I get it, you just wanted cleverer friends, we know when we’re not wanted--” MJ’s cut off when Peter leans in to hug her, one arm wrapped around her and the other clapping Ned on the back.

“Don’t be stupid,” he says, pulling away. He leans back, gesturing to Saul and Kate. “Have you--”

“Oh, yeah, we’ve been introduced. We were actually thinking of replacing you, Pete, Saul makes killer cookies. When was the last time you made us something, huh?” MJ jokes, shoving Peter’s shoulder. He smiles back at her, a small wave of guilt suddenly hitting him. He looks down at his feet.

“I’m sorry you guys had to come here, it’s not fair that your lives had to be thrown around like this. I just-- Not everyone’s so happy I’m Spiderman, we don’t know how far some bad people would have gone to get to me--” He stops when Saul claps a hand across his mouth, a smirk across his face.

“Peter, you’re stupid if you think we’d not do anything to keep your cute little butt safe.” He takes his hand away from Peter’s mouth and Peter lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

“Alright, I think now’s a good time to cut in and tell you why we asked you up here,” Tony interrupts, sending a pointed stare at him. Peter frowns up at him. To anyone else he probably looked fine, but he can tell that Tony’s shoulders have gone rigid and there’s a slight incline to his eyebrows - he’s annoyed. At what?

Peter smiles at his friends and walks over to the long sofas, taking a seat in one of them and watching as everyone else followed. Saul’s heading towards the sofa that Peter’s settled into, but seems to change his mind the moment Tony throws himself down next to Peter instead. There’s that forced nonchalance again - Tony acting like his movements are completely casual when they’re not and Peter can tell. He’d tried to beat Saul to the seat next to him but why he did was completely lost on Peter.

“Pete, is this where you’ve been spending like, every night, the last month?” Ned whispers from the other side of him. Peter nods. “Wooow.”

“Get on with it then, kid.” Tony knocks his knee into his. “You should be the one to ask.”

“Ask what?” MJ asks suspiciously, eyes flickering between Tony and Peter. 

“This is gonna sound weird, okay, but… we need your help.” Peter ignores the small gasp from Ned at his side, “There’s a guy - Mr Diaz, my old boss - he’s trying to kill anyone with superpowers, anyone who’s with the Avengers. And he…” Peter trails off, looking down at the hands in his lap. “He’s managed to get one of us already. But he’s disappeared and camera’s can’t find him so we need to go door-to-door with a picture of him, try and see if anyone’s spotted him. Only…”

“You can’t do it because you’re all basically celebrities now,” Saul finishes, nodding. He yawns and stretches out on the sofa, crossing his arms. “Yeah, cool, we’ll do it.” He sniffs. “Knew something was off about that guy. What a douche.”

Peter’s eyebrows rise and he looks around at MJ, Kate and Ned. MJ answers him with an accepting shrug, Kate smiles and nods, and Ned still looks like he’s trying to catch his breath.

“You want me - us - to go on a mission for the Avengers?” He gasps out, an enormous grin spreading across his face. “Peter, you don’t have to get me a birthday present or a Christmas present or anything ever, oh my God, this is the best day of my life.” And Peter can’t help it, he’s grinning back at him, wondering why on Earth he was ever nervous to begin with.

“Are you guys sure? You know, it might get dangerous.” 

“Just keep the reason why you’re searching for Diaz quiet and you’ll be fine,” Tony says, clapping his hands to his knees and then rising from the sofa. “Good to have you on board, Pete will fill you in on everything else. I’ve got a thing with an always-angry guy in the lab.” He playfully flicks Peter in the head, earning him a frown and a smile, before strolling away with his attention back on the phone in his hand. Peter watches him go. Tony knew there was nothing else to be said to his friends and he knew that Bruce was more than capable of doing the research alone - probably preferred it, in fact. And yet he’d left him there alone with his friends anyway. 

“You guys close, huh?” MJ comments and Peter nearly doesn’t catch it, too focused on watching Tony leave the room.

“Huh? Oh, um, I don’t know, not that close.” Peter ignores the flush in his cheeks and leans back on the sofa. Ned’s staring at the side of his head, practically a bubble of excited, jittery energy, like he’s about to burst if he doesn’t open his mouth. Peter sighs.

“What is it--”

“Can we see your room?” Ned blurts out, turning to face Peter. “Come on, this is like my dream, I want to see this place before we get kicked out.”

The childish happiness that always hits Peter around Ned starts to burst in his chest and he can feel the excitement rubbing off on him. It’s why he loved Ned; he always found a way of making you feel whatever he was feeling. Peter grins.

“Lets go.”

-x-

“It’s nothing special--” Peter says as he opens the door to his bedroom. His.

MJ immediately goes for the bed, throwing herself down on it and starfishing. She lets out a satisfied groan.

“Oh my god, my limbs don’t even touch the edges. This is amazing.”

Ned’s inspecting the computer panel integrated into Peter’s desk, figuring out how to open it easily and letting out a tiny squeak of awe. Saul wanders over to the mini fridge filled with Diet Coke - Peter’s drink of choice - and takes one out, opening it up and falling easily into the armchair in the corner. Kate politely sits at his desk chair, looking around the room with wide eyes.

“My entire room is like the size of your bed,” Saul comments, taking a swig from the can. Kate nods in agreement, fiddling with a small mechanical figure perched on the table beside her. Ned’s still running from object to object, picking up everything he can and pushing it almost to his nose to examine it.

“So, this is like your room now? You live here?” Ned asks, staring at Peter with wide eyes, a prototype of Peter’s new webshooter in his hand. Peter grins at him.

“Yeah, sorta. May said I should move in, but I don’t want to leave her alone. I’ll just switch between both places,” Peter shrugs, watching MJ rise from the bed to approach the window. Ned calls him over to explain the computer system and he obliges, missing what had captured MJ’s attention.

“I thought you said you weren’t close with Tony Stark.”

Peter sits up straight and heat flushes through him when he realises what MJ is holding, cheeks burning. She had a photo frame in her hand.

“I--I-- that was one night-- MJ, give it here,” He stretches a hand out but she grins and moves away. 

“Ned, catch.” She throws it across the room and Ned catches it with ease, eyes popping and mouth dropping open when he sees the picture.

“Peter, what the fuck--”

“Ned, please, give it here.” Peter steps forward and he’s pretty sure he’s never felt embarrassed enough for it to feel like his entire body had turned to jelly. Saul’s out of his chair and looking over Ned’s shoulder. Peter just admits defeat and collapses onto the bed, hiding his face in his hands.

“Aw, cute,” Saul says, placing his can on the desk behind him. 

“When did this happen? Are you wearing his glasses--”

Peter picks up the webshooter prototype lying on the bed beside him and fires it at the photo. It latches on and he pulls it back to him, catching it easily. There’s a beat of silence in the room and he realises it’s the first time his friends have ever seen him use any of his abilities in person.

He looks down at the picture, of Tony asleep on the sofa and Peter’s head lying in his lap, and the same feeling he’d had when he first saw it starts to come back. He doesn’t know what it is, but it makes his heart feel tight against his chest and his stomach feel like it’s tied up in knots. 

“So how close are you? Really?” MJ’s quiet voice comes from right next to him and he jumps, not realising she’d even sat down. Everyone else in the room had gone back to poking and prodding what they could find. Peter looks back down at the photo and lets out a soft laugh.

“Honestly? I don’t even know. ‘Friends’ just sounds too weird. It doesn’t even feel like friendship, not like what me and Ned have. But it’s not nothing either.” He looks up and makes sure no one else is listening, because he loves Ned, Saul and Kate, but they weren’t MJ. MJ always understood. “When I talk with Dr Banner or Mr Rogers, it’s awesome and feels good. But when I talk with Mr Stark, it’s so intense and it feels like… like we could talk for hours without getting bored. Like the night won’t end. It feels right.” Peter smiles down at the picture in his hands. “He stayed up with me because I was nervous about the reveal, and we talked about so many stupid things and laughed until we couldn’t breathe. And then we fell asleep. That’s how close we are.”

MJ stares at Peter. Stares and stares and stares. 

“Well, fuck.” She finally says, resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. He looks up at her, eyes questioning and for some reason he feels sad. She’s got a sympathetic smile on her face. “Peter…” She starts, then she pulls him in for a hug, puts her mouth next to his ear and whispers; “You’ve got a crush.”


	10. Chapter 10

Steve throws down a pile of photographs on Tony’s desk with a loud  _ smack,  _ making Tony’s head shoot up from where it had been resting on his arms. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes, startled, and finally Steve’s face starts to take shape.

“Morning,” Steve says with a small smile. He points down at the pictures in front of them. “Nat found that tucked away behind the bookshelves in Mr Diaz’s office, some kind of secret lab. That’s where he’s been making whatever’s made him invisible.” 

Tony jumps forwards, scrabbling through the pictures to take in as much as he can, then opens his mouth to ask Steve one of the hundred questions he had on his lips.

“Yes, we’ve got samples; no, there wasn’t anything to tie us to his location; yes, I’ve already told Bruce and he started working on the analysis about five minutes ago,” Steve says before Tony can even get a word out. Tony smirks up at him.

“That’s why I keep you around, Rogers,” He replies, standing to his feet and stretching, joints popping painfully. He really needed to stop falling asleep in places that wasn’t his bed.

“Any particular reason there’s four kids sprawled all over our lounge?” Steve asks, following Tony out of his office and into the elevator. 

“Slumber party - and they’re not kids,” Tony says, straightening up his ruffled clothes and trying and failing to push down a piece of hair that was sticking up. 

“You can’t say slumber party and ‘not kids’ in the same sentence,” Steve retorts, “I don’t mean anything by it, you’re practically a kid to me too.”

“Say that again and I’ll show how wrong you are,” Tony replies, jabbing a playful finger at Steve’s face, who grins back. They leave the elevator and walk straight into the lounge, where Peter’s friends were slowly starting to wake up. The guy who always dribbled in Tony’s presence - Ned, he thinks - is hunched in the corner of the sofa, the Spiderman mask around his neck. MJ is sitting up looking completely unruffled, tapping away at a phone in her hand. The brother and sister - Saul and Kate - were pushed up next to each other, both of them yawning tiredly. Peter, on the other hand, was still outstretched on the floor, like he’d fallen from the ceiling and had decided not to get up. 

Tony snorts and starts to walk toward them, giving MJ a firm nod of his head which she returned, a twinkle in her eye as she kicked Peter awake. He really did like her. 

Peter scrambles to sit up, his hair even more askew than usual, eyes unfocused. When it looks like his brain has finally caught up with his body, he spots Tony and the sleepy smile that spreads across his face while he scratches the back of his head makes Tony’s stomach do weird flips which he puts down to being hungry.

“Mornin’, Mr Stark,” he says, sleep lacing his voice, coming out huskier than usual. Tony ignores the warm flutter in his chest and can’t help but smile back. 

“Morning, Pete.” He doesn’t know why he does it, but he walks forwards and ruffles his hair, making it look even worse. “Breakfast for six, Rogers!” He shouts when Steve strolls past them.

“Sure, I’ll get right on that,” He replies, in a tone that made it clear he wouldn’t. He stops for a second, raising a hand.

“Morning, Peter. Morning Peter’s friends,” he says, giving them all that winning, Captain America smile before moving towards the kitchen to make coffee.

“Did Captain America just say good morning to me?” Ned whispers to MJ, who whacks him on the foot in response, though she looks quite happy herself. Tony looks down at Peter, who’s yawning and scratching his face.

“You’ve some work to do today,” Tony says, nudging him with his foot. 

“In the lab?” He replies excitedly, getting to his feet too quickly. He almost trips over, but Tony grabs him by the arm, pulling him upright. Peter mutters a ‘thanks’, smiling sheepishly at him.

“Sorry, but no. You’re a celeb now, got appearances to keep up. You,” Tony smirks, “Have a photoshoot.”

Peter’s mouth falls open a little and it’s taking him too long to reply so Tony reaches up a hand and pushes his chin, closing his mouth again. It’s too long; too long they’re standing there with Tony’s hand on his bicep and his fingers on Peter’s chin, staring at each other like they’re talking in micro-expressions. He jerks away, standing up straighter and clearing his throat. The action seems to startle Peter back into talking.

“A photoshoot? Mr Stark, there’s a  _ killer  _ out there right now, I can’t just go out and have my picture taken like there’s nothing wrong.”

“Well, one; you won’t be leaving here, they’re coming to us. Two; that is precisely why you need to do it, to rile up Diaz and try and bring him out of hiding. And three; there’s nothing you can do anyway. Your little friends are gonna do their thing, you need to do yours.” He looks at the people sitting around them talking amongst themselves. All except MJ, who’s watching the two of them carefully. 

Peter lets out a quiet groan of annoyance and pushes past Tony, who’s watching him with amusement. He watches him stomp his way over the kitchen and pull out five glasses, filling them with orange juice with a scowl on his face, which only makes Tony’s smile get bigger.

“You two are actually disgusting.” Tony tears his eyes away from Peter to stare at MJ, who’s smirking up at him, twirling her phone between her thumb and index finger.

“Excuse me?” 

“Not in a bad way. A bit like when you see two puppies fall asleep on each other and you kinda feel like you want to throw up and cry at the same time because it’s so damn cute.” She grins up at him. Tony doesn’t know how to respond.

“You’re saying me and Parker are puppies?”

“I’m  _ saying,  _ you dim-witted genius, that… You know what, it doesn’t matter. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” She smirks at him and stands up, plodding her way over to the kitchen to talk with Peter. She raises a hand for Steve, who stares at her quizzically, before high-fiving her. She starts talking with Peter like the exchange never happened, leaving Steve to chuckle quietly to himself in disbelief.

Tony just watches, like he always does when Peter’s in the room. Watches him laugh at something MJ says, watches the way his whole face lights up, watches his eyes when they keep flickering back over to Tony, watches him stretch his arms above his head, revealing a little patch of skin between his pants and the edge of his t-shirt…

The entire time he watches Peter move, laugh, breathe, talk, he thinks and thinks and thinks but can’t, for the life of him, figure out what it was that MJ had noticed that he hadn’t.

-x-

Pepper’s face when Peter walks out from behind the curtain makes Peter suddenly feel like the outfit he’s wearing is ten times more ridiculous than he’d originally thought. She’s not laughing - she’s grinning at him, hands coming up to cover her mouth.

“God, Peter, you look good!” She whispers in awe. “This is going to get a  _ lot  _ of attention.”

Peter looks down at his outfit. It’s a burgundy and white patterned shirt, with checkered shorts that reached mid-thigh. Big, black, clompy boots were on his feet, the laces done up as loose as he could make them, and a simple silver chain hung around his neck, reaching down to the middle of his chest. He’d been instructed by the rather strict looking photographer to leave the buttons on his shirt, pretend they weren’t there, so his toned muscles were peeking out. He felt like a fake surfer.

“Absolutely perfect!” The photographer - Lyle - shouts, gesturing hugely with his hand for Peter to step in front of the green screen and place himself on top of the stool. Peter follows his order, awkwardly hiking himself up onto the stool that was just that little bit too high to be comfortable. Unsure of how to sit, he assumed the position he used to take for his high school yearbook photos. Pepper actually turns away to hide a smile when Lyle looks at Peter in horror. “Dear God, boy, do you have any idea how this works?”

Peter shakes his head, letting out a nervous laugh and sending a glance at Pepper. She walks over to him and pulls a magazine out of her arm. It’s People Magazine, something he’d seen his aunt reading. There’s a picture of Steve Rogers plastered across the front, standing and looking at something in the distance, but it looks so natural. He looks like a completely different person, dressed in a white tank top and dark sweats, stubble shading his face. He flicks through a couple more of the pictures, amazed at how easy Steve made it look.

“Just be natural. Try and copy a couple of the poses from the magazine, yeah? Act like the camera’s not there,” She grips him on the shoulder supportively and then moves away, taking the magazine with her. Peter takes a deep, calming breath, just like he had in front of the podium. Then he nods at Lyle and the camera starts to click away.

-x-

It’s late when Tony approaches Peter’s door and he knows he’s probably asleep, but he needed his input on the secret project he’d been working on. He figured it was about time Peter saw what it was that had kept him busy for over a month.

He knocks lightly on the door, shoving his hands in his pockets. To his surprise, Peter’s door opens quickly and Peter’s standing there in a black tank top and baggy grey sweatpants, a big smile spreading across his face when he sees Tony.

“Mr Stark! What are you doing here?” 

Tony pushes past him into his room and grabs a metal ball from a stand on Peter’s desk, chucking in between his hands.

“I’ve got something I need your help with - don’t even think about smiling like that, I only need your input since it’s for you.” Tony says. Peter frowns in confusion, perching himself on the edge of his bed. 

“For me?”

Tony tosses the ball in between his hands and watches as each time it flies through the air, metal arms push out the plates, making it expand, and then by the time it lands in his other hand it’s back to its original form. He smirks at the device in his hand.

“This is good. You make this?” He asks. Peter nods.

“Just practicing. Why?” Peter replies, standing up in front of Tony to take it from him, rolling it over in his hands.

“Looks like it’s made out of basic enough stuff. Kids would love something like that. How much for the materials?”

“I dunno, about twenty dollars? I stole some of the scraps from your lab,” Peter admits, cheeks tinged pink. Tony nods, holding out his hand, gesturing for Peter to hand it back. His fingers brush the palm of Tony’s hand when he passes it to him and Tony shivers.

“This is an easy fifty bucks,” Tony starts to toss the ball from hand to hand again, watching it expand and retract with fascination. “Whaddaya say? Want to write me a proposal that I can send off to Pepper? Get some of these out there in a test batch. All profits go to you, of course.”

Peter’s mouth falls open. “Mr Stark-- Sir, it’s just something I did when I was bored, it’s not even finished and it’s stupid, you don’t have to--” Tony pushes a finger to Peter’s lips, silencing him.

“Go to any investor with this and they’ll eat it up. I’d be stupid not to invest in Peter Parker before someone else comes and takes you away…” Tony trails off, noticing the blush that’s spread across Peter’s cheeks and the way his eyes have widened. Tony swallows, staring at the finger on Peter’s lips, the warmth of them seeping through his skin. 

Whatever he’d been trying to say flies from his usually-overactive mind and everything else quickly dissipates with it. All he can see, smell, feel, is Peter. His finger twitches and his mouth goes dry. He goes to pull his finger back but it disobeys, doesn’t listen to his brain; instead, it moves down, catching on Peter’s bottom lip. When Peter’s tongue darts out to dampen his lip and it catches the tip of Tony’s finger, he can’t help the small sharp intake of breath.

He moves his hand back down to his side but his eyes don’t leave Peter’s mouth; it’s hanging slightly open, bottom lip glistening. The ball’s in Tony’s other hand, completely forgotten, and when he lifts his gaze to Peter’s, a rush of heat shoots up his spine.

Peter’s staring at him, eyes on  _ fire,  _ and Tony’s certain he has no idea how much he’s showing just through his gaze alone. Tony swallows and swallows, trying to dampen his dry throat, but it doesn’t work, his lips drying out. He sends his own tongue out to wet them and Peter’s eyes follow the movement, mouth open and breaths coming out quickly.

A knock at the door breaks whatever reverie they’d been under and they both jump.

Clearing his throat, Tony opens the door, his brain having a mini-Tony freakout. He hopes it doesn’t show on his face. Bruce smiles up at him.

“You were taking a while, everything okay? Pete, you coming down to the lab?” Bruce asks, poking his head round the door. Peter nods quickly, only throwing Tony a quick glance before pushing past him and out of the door as fast as his feet could carry him. Bruce watches him, amused.

“Bit eager,” Bruce jokes, following Peter down the hall. Tony stands in Peter’s room, the ball in his hands, and takes a moment to collect his thoughts.

Whatever the hell had just happened wasn’t normal. He wants to pretend it didn’t happen, like he hadn’t practically caressed a nineteen-year-olds lips with his finger; hadn’t witnessed how such a small action had made the kid breathless; hadn’t seen the flush on his cheeks or the look in his eyes.

Tony smacks himself in the face, bringing himself back to clarity. With a sigh he places the ball back on the stand, and that’s when he notices the photo frame sitting beside it. He picks it up and his chest feels heavy.

It’s a picture of the two of them on the sofa, the night Peter was feeling low. When they’d drunk too much and spent all night talking. And Peter had it standing up on his desk.

Tony’s brain shuts down; he closes off every direction his mind is trying to take him. Just puts the picture back, takes a deep breath, and leaves the room.

-x-

“I don’t know what to say,” Peter says breathlessly, his eyes both bright from happiness and from the light that’s shining from behind the brand new Spiderman suit in front of him.

“It’s nanotech, no more back alley escapades, just do this…” Tony presses a button on the front of the suit and the whole thing retracts into itself, contained in a tiny little spider emblem. “And this,” he presses it again and it wraps itself back around the mannequin in front of them. “I needed you down here to test it, so I can iron out any kinks--”

“It’ll be perfect, Mr Stark,” Peter answers, still sounding dazed, his attention one hundred percent on the suit in front of him. Tony doesn’t even notice Peter’s started stripping down at first, until he lifts his eyes up from his holo for a brief second and he’s greeted by the long expanse of skin on Peter’s back. His t-shirt is on the floor and when Peter reaches for the edge of his pants, Tony immediately pulls his eyes away, focusing as intently as he can on the hologram in front of him. He wills away the unexpected heat in his cheeks, ignores the way his thoughts have completely shut down and blinks away the ghost of the image he’d seen that’s fluttering in front of his eyes.

“What do you think?” Peter’s voice pulls him away from his inner crisis and he looks up. Peter’s left the mask off, but the rest of the suit wraps around his body flawlessly, every bend and plane of muscle rippling with his movements. Peter holds his arms out and gives him a grin. 

“Looks great, kid,” Tony croaks, clearing his throat. Peter runs his hands down his own body, checking the fit, and Tony really,  _ really  _ doesn’t want to think about how that nearly short circuits his brain.

“Hey, Pete, lookin’ good!” Bruce says as he walks into the lab, sending Peter a grin. Peter’s entire face is still lit up, like he’d been given a gift from God. Which, Tony smirks to himself, was sort of true.

“I can’t believe Tony Stark made me a  _ suit,”  _ Peter says, going back to examining every inch of it. Bruce smiles at Tony, affection in his eyes. 

“Yeah, he does that.”

“It’s bulletproof, unlike your old one and I’ve also programmed an AI to help you out. Training wheels are on until you can use it without accidentally destroying half the city by activating the wrong thing,” Tony explains, attempting to distract himself as Peter retracts the suit, leaving him in the middle of the lab half-naked once again. Tony’s not stupid, he’s felt exactly what he’s feeling before, but he wants to think he’s wrong, wants to think that it’s all just in his rattled, exhausted head. Something Peter’s asked him has gone in one ear and out the other and he realises he needs to leave  _ now  _ before Bruce catches on, or Peter starts to realise he’s not okay. Tony vaguely registers excusing himself from the lab and he walks out, hand pushing to his chest to calm his beating heart.

_ Get it together,  _ he tells himself, other hand steadying himself on the wall.  _ Sleep, you need sleep, sleep and it’ll go away, you’ll be fine. _

He listens to his scattered mind, feels his feet carrying himself to the elevator and up to his room. He doesn’t even get undressed, doesn’t let his brain think anymore, just falls onto his bed and he’s out in seconds.


	11. Chapter 11

Peter yawns and stretches out in his bed - _ his - _and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. He’d spent all night in the new Spiderman suit, testing all of the different web outputs, getting used to the UI, getting to know Karen (the AI Tony had kindly added into his suit - she was nice.) He looks over at the clock on his bedside table: 11:03am. He’d really slept in.

He kicks the blankets off of himself and walks over to his wardrobe, staring at the huge range of clothing. Sometimes he missed just having four t-shirts and two pairs of pants to pick from in the mornings. His mind drifts away from the clothes in front of him, still in a sleepy daze. 

Tony had upped and left the lab yesterday, without any word other than a ‘catch you later’ to him and Bruce, leaving all of his holos open and screens active. Peter hadn’t seen him for the rest of the night. Maybe he’d finally hit the wall and decided to cave in and go to sleep; Peter knew the feeling.

He pulls out a pair of jeans and sits on the edge of the bed, dipping his foot into one of the legs, when his eye catches the ball sitting on top of his desk. His face heats up and there’s a tug in his pelvis when it brings back the night before. He still couldn’t wrap his head around it.

_ You have a crush, _MJ’s words echo in his head and he remembers how he’d snorted, shoved her away, told her he didn’t like guys, let alone ones who were twice his age.

But with a rough finger on his lips, his spidey senses sending fissures of electricity through his body, Tony’s eyes on his mouth and that tongue--

His phone rings and he realises how stupid he must look, sitting on his bed with one foot poking into his pants. He drops them and reaches over to his bedside table, noticing Ned’s picture lighting up his phone. He answers it.

“Ned?” 

“Pete, I found him. Oh my god, it was a complete fluke, I was just walking past this really fancy hotel and I wanted to go inside and have a look and Pete, he was standing _ right there--” _

“Ned, where?” Peter asks, adrenaline spiking through his body. He threw the pants to one side, reaching over to the device next to his bed. He pushes it to his chest, smashes the button, and discards the phone. Ned’s face shows up on his UI, his voice in his ear.

“Swan Hotel, 57th Street.” Peter walks over to his window and pushes it open as far as it can go, leaping onto the ledge on the other side. He shoots web at the corner of a nearby building and prepares himself.

“Ned, stay right there, tell me if he leaves. I’ll be there soon.” And he jumps.

-x-

Tony rubs his face and reaches for his coffee mug, taking a large gulp. He’d slept surprisingly well and he’d woken up feeling like the day before had been a weird dream. That’s when he knew he’d been awake too long - when the days started to feel like they weren’t real.

And he’d woken up feeling ridiculous about everything he’d been freaking out about too, which was actually something he was used to. 

There’s a knock at the door of his bedroom and he sits up from his armchair, sliding away the holo he’d been absentmindedly looking at. He opens the door to Pepper, who has a magazine tucked under her arm and a smile on her face.

“Morning,” She says, even though she knows it’s closer to the afternoon. “I got a present for you.”

“What could the wonderful Miss Potts possibly give me that I don’t already have, except for the obvious,” Tony says with a smirk, and Pepper rolls her eyes at the inclination, ignoring it. She passes him the magazine.

“Peter’s photoshoot, it made the front page. Apparently he’s ‘the new teen heartthrob’ or something. Guess he’s getting a bit of a following with the young ladies.” She smirks and it’s an echo of the one Tony throws around so often. They’d been working together far too long. “I’ve been hammered with calls all day about him. Who’d have guessed he would have been the one to start shining a good light on the Avengers.”

Tony smiles, taking the magazine from her without glancing at it. “You’ve met him, I’d have thought it would have been obvious.” She smiles warmly back, tapping Tony’s cheek with her soft hand before leaving. Tony closes the door behind her, turning away and flipping the magazine round the right way in his hands. 

He swears he stops breathing.

Peter’s on the front page, sitting on a high stool with his patterned shirt parted, revealing just the top of his chiseled chest, a silver necklace twinkling on top of it. The shorts are on the right edge of too tight, his legs parted and pulling the material firmer across his muscled thighs which are spattered with fine hair. He has a hand entwined in his ruffled hair, a glowing smile across his face like he was mid-laugh, his eyes looking off into the distance. With uneasy hands, Tony turns the pages to the rest of the photoshoot.

Peter, staring at the camera with heated eyes and a beach backdrop. Peter, wearing a long trenchcoat, the collar pulled up around his neck, gaze intent and serious. Peter, leaning in a chair with his head tilted back, neck stretched and enticing, wearing a tank top with his old Spiderman suit ruffled around his waist. 

There’s a dull ache that’s grown in the base of Tony’s stomach and he snaps the magazine shut, throwing it across the room to land on his bed. Stupid. He was being stupid, stupid, stupid. 

“_ Incoming call from Peter Parker, sir.” _Friday’s voice echoes throughout his room and Tony snaps out of whatever pit he was falling into and straightens.

“Send him through.” He’s greeted by Peter’s panicked breaths and immediately, he knows something’s wrong.

“Mr Stark? Mr Stark! Oh god, we need to move, it’s Ned, Ned’s been taken, Mr Diaz took him right in front of me and he’s--”

“Excuse me?” Tony says, “Are you telling me you _ found _Diaz and you took off--”

“Mr Stark, I didn’t go to fight him! I went to get a visual and by the time I got there, Ned was gone and he was cut off!”

Tony presses the arc reactor from his desk into his chest and activates it, sending the nanobots across his body, armour clicking into place and mask snapping over his face. He throws the phone onto the bed and walks over to his balcony door, opening it and strolling out onto the deck. He’s in the air in moments, thrusters leaving a light cloud of smoke behind him.

“Where are you?”

“Karen got a hit on Ned, he’s in a black sedan driving to the outskirts of the city, I’m heading there now.”

“Kid, you have to wait for backup, if you walk in there and he pulls out his serum, you’re done for.” Tony’s fuming, absolutely livid with Peter, but he’s trying to push it aside to get on with the mission. He shouldn’t have been out there alone, should have _ told _someone, should have at least thought to tell him. But he’d ran into it headfirst without even a second guess. Reckless. Stupid. Brave.

“I don’t care, Mr Stark, I got Ned involved in this and if anything happens to him, it’s on me, so I’m going. Just please, hurry in case I need backup.” And then the fucking kid has the audacity to hang up on him. 

Letting out a growl of frustration, Tony checks the GPS on his HUD to find Peter’s location. He’s far, but it shouldn’t take too long to catch him, not when it’s Iron Man vs webs.

He amps up his thrusters and flies.

-x-

Peter watches the black sedan pull in underneath an abandoned warehouse, landing stealthily onto a nearby wall and tucking himself as much he can against the wall to get a good view without being spotted.

A man gets out of the car. Peter doesn’t know how the man had even fit into the car in the first place, he’s _ huge, _half the size of the Hulk but definitely not enough to be normal. He’s pulling Ned out of the car, letting him fall to the ground. A slash of anger cuts through Peter at the treatment of his friend and he promises to himself, swears as hard as he can, that as soon as he has Ned free he’s going to make it up to him.

He doesn’t wait. He jumps down off of the wall, swinging from the ceiling, and lands a safe distance away from them.

“Man, I think you need to lay off the protein shakes for a bit, bulky,” He quips, and the large man flips around before dragging Ned in front of him.

“Peter, he’s got--” Ned’s silenced by a smack to the side of the head and Peter’s jovial spirit sinks. He shoots out a web and sticks the man’s hand to the car. 

“If you lay another hand on him, I’ll rip it off,” Peter growls, walking forwards. He stops when the car door opens and Mr Diaz steps out, a warming smile on his face.

“Mr Parker, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Why act surprised? You knew I’d come,” Peter replies, resisting the urge to leap at Mr Diaz’s face and smack the stupid smile away.

“Well, yes, I did. Bit stupid, sending out a bunch of untrained lackeys to find me. I’m guessing that was Mr Stark’s idea. Never did have much of a heart for the lower class.” Mr Diaz walks over to Ned, who’s still clutching the side of his head, and raises a hand. 

Peter immediately shoots out another web, sticking the hand to a nearby column. Mr Diaz sighs and pulls away his hand with ease, which _ was not normal. _

“If I’m going to be facing _ Spiderman _don’t you think I’d take precautions? You know, science is a wonderful thing.” Mr Diaz reaches into his pocket and Peter sticks his wrist out, ready to react if he needed to. But all he pulls out is a syringe, filled with a blue liquid. “You can change all of the molecules in your body, change your DNA, change the way your brain works. Or it can turn you into a superhero.” He pointedly looks at Peter, who’s still on guard, eyes flicking between the large man, Ned and Mr Diaz. He needs to figure out a way of getting Ned out, not capturing Mr Diaz. Friends first.

“Superheroes give people hope, make them feel safe. Why do you want to get rid of them so bad? We’re the good guys,” Peter asks, inching himself slowly towards Ned, holding Mr Diaz’s eye contact the entire time.

“Because you’re not the good guys. You’re unnatural, failed science experiments or unhappy rejects. I’m here to make it right.”

“You callin’ _ that _natural?” Peter jabs a finger at the bulky man still holding onto Ned’s arm.

“It’s called fighting fire with fire. And this,” Mr Diaz pulls out a tiny gun from his back pocket and aims it at Peter before he can react. Peter stiffens, eyeing up the small, glass bottle sitting on top of the gun. It’s filled with orange serum. “This is for you.”

Peter’s moved before Mr Diaz can even pull the trigger, sliding along the floor with his webshooter at the ready. He attaches it to the gun, yanks it out of Mr Diaz’s hand and into his own before turning around to point it at the big guy holding Ned. He shoots the dart, but the guy pushes Ned to the floor and dodges, too fast to be normal.

“Matt, kill his friend and capture Parker.” Mr Diaz orders, leaning back against the car with his arms folded. “I’m sure Parker has backup on the way, be quick about it.”

“Ned!” Peter shouts, shooting a web towards him. It attaches onto Ned’s Star War’s t-shirt and Peter pulls him sharply, sending him across the floor towards him. “Sorry!” He shouts, sliding away when Matt attempts to land a punch.

“I’m fine, go do Spidey things!” Ned shouts back, ducking behind a nearby car. Peter’s trying to keep an eye on Ned, trying to focus on Mr Diaz, though he seems to be content with just watching. If he can get to him, force Matt to stop his assault--

He has to backflip out of the way of an incoming fist and it whistles past his ear, _ too close. _Peter sends two webs at Matt’s feet, keeping him still momentarily while he focuses on Ned. He needs to get him to safety.

He leaps towards the car Ned is hiding behind and picks him up into his arms with ease.

“Hold on!” He shouts through the suit, shooting a web at the corner of a nearby gap in the wall. He swings himself up, ignoring Ned’s shouts, and lands swiftly outside the warehouse. Ned lets go of his neck shakily. “Go, run, get somewhere with people. Take this,” Peter sends Drone-y onto Ned’s shoulder, “Mr Stark can track you with it--” The wall behind them shatters into pieces, sending debris and chunks of rock towards them. Peter isn’t fast enough - a chunk thuds against Ned’s skull and he falls to the floor, out cold. Matt is standing at the opening, fists bleeding, face contorted with rage. Peter can’t stop to see if Ned is okay - he tries to move out of the way of Matt’s fist coming towards him but he’s not fast enough. Pain envelops his head and he hears a crunch. The mask has a hole in it, nanobots collapsing off of his shoulder and scattering onto the floor. Unable to concentrate with half a mask, he retracts it, eyes widening at the sight of a syringe in Matt’s hand. 

Peter’s still trying to recover from the first punch, senses dwindling, so he can’t dodge the incoming kick that’s sent towards his stomach. He flies backwards into the building behind them, bricks and dust cascading onto his suit and into his hair. He’s propped up against the wall and the back of his head feels heavy and wet.

“You see, out of all of your friends, I’ve realised that the only one who can help me complete my little project is you,” Mr Diaz’s voice comes from next to him and Peter looks up drowsily, struggling to focus. When had he appeared? “It was so easy, getting you alone. You really do have a heart of gold, jumping in without a thought to save your friend. Maybe I was wrong about having you as an assistant. Clearly you lack maturity and rational thought.” Mr Diaz bent down to Peter’s level, lips brushing his ear. Peter can’t move. “At least you’re not lacking in anything else.” 

And then Mr Diaz’s hand travels up his thigh and it’s distracting enough that Peter doesn’t realise the syringe being plunged into his neck. He stiffens, _ this is it, I’m dead, I’m going die, _ but it’s not putting anything into his body. It’s taking something _ out. _

Mr Diaz stands up with a vial of his blood, twirling it around in his fingers with a victorious smile on his face.

“This was the final ingredient. Thanks ever so much for your help.” Mr Diaz nods at Matt and walks away, Peter’s hard eyes watching him as he goes. He urges his feet to move, for the dizziness and weakness to subside, but it’s taking too long. Matt looms over him and then he’s being kicked in his head, his stomach, his legs, and after a while he realises his face is pressed into the gritty, dirty floor, having fallen over somewhere in between the hits.

Suddenly, it stops. Peter opens his eyes, blinks away the dust, and sees Ned standing behind Matt, a chunk of rock in his hand coated in blood. There’s a gash across the back of Matt’s head and then he’s falling. Peter has to roll out of the way to avoid being crushed.

“Peter!” Ned shouts, dropping the rock immediately to fly to his side. Peter rouses, using every ounce of energy he has left to push himself upright. Matt’s not out cold - he’s still moving around on the floor, dazed. _ What the hell was he? _

“Ned, Ned, we have to get out of here,” Peter rasps, “He’s too strong--”

Ned picks up the rock he’d dropped previously and turns around, whacking Matt on the head again for good measure. Despite the situation, Peter lets out a croaky laugh, groaning when it sends a spark of pain through his chest.

“Oh my god, that was so awesome, and I think I’ve peed my pants at least twice, but wow, you were like pew pew pew and I got smacked on the head so many times there’s two of you--” Ned’s excited rambling cuts off when a rumbling in the distance catches his attention. He’s looking up at the sky, blood trickling down the side of his head and staining the white collar of his t-shirt. Peter follows his gaze, seeing a dark figure with bright lights sparkling behind it. It sends a huge wave of relief through him.

Iron Man lands with a clunk next to them both, slowly assessing the situation for danger. Matt is still rolling around on the floor, bald head pouring with blood in two places. Tony retracts the helmet, keeping his eyes firmly on Peter as he raises an arm, sending two twines of vibranium thread to wrap themselves around Matt’s hands, cuffing him.

“Hey, Mr Stark,” Peter croaks, sending him an uneasy smile. He’s starting to feel a bit loopy, the wetness on his head only getting worse by the second. “I want to say I saved Ned, but I’m pretty sure he just saved me. And Mr Diaz took some of my blood which is probably not a good thing--”

“You, be quiet. I don’t want to hear another word out of your stupid mouth,” Tony interrupts, raising a finger in warning. He steps forwards, suit whirring as he moves. He tilts Ned’s head down and points his wrist at the open cut, a sticky white liquid spurting out and sealing the cut together. “Cap’s on his way with a ride, we’ll get you back to the tower and cleaned up.”

“T-Thanks, sir,” Ned replies gratefully, raising a hand to feel the mended cut. Tony bends down to Peter next, expression unreadable and that’s honestly scarier than any other reaction Peter had expected. He presses a hand to his chest, retracting the rest of the suit, then raises both of his hands to Peter’s face, the warmth and softness of them almost making Peter sigh with relief. Then he leans forwards, wrapping his arms around Peter’s neck, and pulls him into a hug.

Peter’s eyes widen in surprise, a flush spreading through his body when he feels Tony’s cheek rub against the side of his head. Then he caves, eyes closing, bringing his own heavy arms around Tony’s warm body to pull him closer. He nuzzles his nose into the space behind Tony’s ear, breathing in the scent of him, and he realises his concussion has _ definitely _hindered his ability for restraint.

Matt lets out a frustrated growl as he tugs against his ties and it seems to make something snap in Tony because he pulls away quickly, removing every part of himself that was in contact with Peter. Peter hates that he can feel the loss of the touch, but he hates the look on Tony’s face even more.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at Peter until a car pulls up nearby and Steve emerges from it. He looks worried but when he sees Peter he sags with relief, running to his side quickly. Tony finds himself being moved away when Steve bends down to pull Peter into a hug too.

Peter smiles and returns it, but there’s something in the back of his heavily concussed mind that’s making him wonder why the hug with Tony had felt so different, so much nicer, and his arms itch to have him back. Steve pulls away and ruffles Peter’s hair, sending him a smile.

“Glad you’re alright, kid,” He says, holding out a hand to help Peter to his feet. Peter takes it, but the moment Steve pulls him up, his legs give way, sending him towards the floor again. Steve catches him, throwing one of Peter’s arms around his shoulder. “Let’s get you back.”

Steve hobbles along next to Peter, dragging him towards the car, and Peter’s grateful - he is - and it’s kind of amazing that Captain America is worrying so much about him. But he can’t help but look over his shoulder at Tony, who’s walking behind them with Matt in tow, eyes alternating between sending his glare at Peter and Steve’s back.

Peter’s cheeks still feel warm.


	12. Chapter 12

“So he needed your blood. For what?” Natasha asks, sitting back in the armchair beside Peter’s bed. He shrugs. He feels a bit silly, lying in his bed while Steve, Bruce, Tony and Nat sat around his bedroom. 

“He’s a terrible bad guy. He didn’t let slip anything about his evil plan, aren’t they all supposed to do that?” Peter quips, giving her an uneasy grin. She smiles back in return, shaking her head.

“What’s our next plan? We can’t bring the fight to him if we don’t know where he is,” Steve says, using his authoritative I-am-Captain-America voice.

“We don’t bring the fight to him. We wait. Whatever he’s doing, it involves us, so he’ll come to us eventually.” Nat says, leaning forwards and balancing her forearms on her knees. “Go back on lockdown.”

“What about the big guy? We get anything out of him?” Steve asks. Bruce shakes his head.

“He can’t talk. Whatever’s been pumped into his body has long been filtered out, but the damage is done. It’s almost like the human side of his brain has been completely replaced with something animalistic.”

The room is silent for a moment. They had no way of finding Mr Diaz, no way of interrogating their prisoner, no way of knowing what it was Mr Diaz was working on. They’d hit a complete dead end.

“So… we wait?” Peter says, “We don’t know what he’s doing, he could end up targeting innocent people--”

“If he was going to do that, he’d have done it already,” Tony cuts off sharply and Peter looks at him, gritting his teeth when Tony refuses to meet his gaze.

“What if he starts? And we’ve just been sitting here, doing nothing?”

“He _ won’t. _” Tony says firmly, finally looking at Peter.

“But how do you _ know _that--”

“I’m sorry, how many bad guys have you fought? Huh? Because we’ve been fighting them since you were still in diapers.” Tony’s glaring at him now. Peter’s getting _ pissed. _

“I’d have thought after fighting that many bad guys, you’d know that you can’t predict what they’re going to do. How certain are you that he won’t start going after civilians? Eighty percent? Ninety? There’s still that chance that he will, so don’t give me that crap.” Peter’s surprised at the bite behind his voice, as is the rest of the room. They’re all standing there, watching Tony and Peter attack each other, perplexed.

“How about--”

“Tony, Peter, stop,” Bruce says, massaging his forehead, trying to ease the stress away. “Peter’s right, there is a chance he could go after anyone in the city. But there is also _ nothing we can do,” _ He slides his eyes over to Peter. “We _ know _we’re a target, but we don’t know if he intends to target normal people. So we have to work with that.”

Peter’s jaw clenches shut and he swallows, nodding hard at Bruce. Tony throws his hands in the air in defeat.

“What is it with you? Happy to listen to Cap or Banner, but Tony Stark? Not a chance. Do you enjoy torturing me? Is that it?” He asks with a hysterical edge to his voice, running a hand through his hair. “Forget it, you do you, kid.” He walks out of the room, leaving Peter with the rest of the Avengers.

“He’s got a point,” Natasha says, pointing at the door Tony had left through. Peter lets out a huff of laughter, shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t fight him so hard if it didn’t feel like he was angry at me all the time, for no reason at all.”

“Tony’s angry at the entire world, all the time, for no reason at all,” Steve replies, smiling. He straightens himself up from the desk he was leaning against and ruffles Peter’s hair. “Don’t take it to heart, kid.” Then he leaves too, followed by Natasha and Bruce. Peter’s alone in his bed, body thrumming as it continues to heal all of the bumps and bruises he’d gotten in the fight. With a sigh, he tilts his head back onto his pillow and closes his eyes.

His phone dings, so he reaches over to his bedside table and reads the text he’d received. It’s MJ.

_ Ned’s doin gd won’t shut up being kidnapped _

Peter lets out a laugh, thumbs tapping a response.

_ he was awesome. took down a bad guy with a rock _

_ so he says. think he’s coming up with superhero names for himself _

_ oh really? like what? _

_ spiderbro, steel man, lieutenant ned. told him not to make the suit just yet _

Peter’s giggling at his phone, already feeling the heavy weight that had been resting on his shoulders easing. He needed this; his friends had no idea how important they were to his mental state.

_ You doin okay? ned said u and stark shared a moment which im very intrigued about btw _

Peter feels the familiar prickle of heat spread up the back of his neck.

_ he’s pissed with me i’m pissed with him. feel like this is gonna be a recurring thing _

_ ust will do that to ya _

_ Ust? _

_ unresolved sexual tension jesus parker, pick up a millennial dictionary _

Peter drops his phone for a second and puts his head in his hands, then runs them down his face, letting out a groan. She was relentless.

_ mj i dont like guys and i dont like mr stark fgs _

_ sure whatever you say _

Well, he felt good for about five minutes of that conversation, but now he’s back to feeling like he’s got a ton of lead in his gut and a rope around his chest. Letting out a sigh, he leans into his pillow and closes his eyes.

-x-

Tony doesn’t go back down to visit Peter again. He knows that his aunt comes and goes, as does his friends, but it’s only two days before Peter’s back on his feet again.

It doesn’t matter what he does, the anger at Peter’s stupid recklessness keeps creeping into the front of his mind and he can’t _ focus. _If he’d died after running off to save his friend - a friend that Tony had insisted Peter put in danger - he didn’t know how he’d handle the guilt. He already had a necklace of it hanging around his throat, pulling him down every single day. Adding Peter’s death to that would have crippled him.

And it’s not just anger simmering in him constantly; it’s the feeling of Peter’s arms around him, the comforting warmth, knowing he was safe, knowing he was there. 

Tony picks up the gauntlet he’s working on and throws it across the room, sending the screwdriver he was holding across the room with it. Then he falls into the stool behind him, covering his tired face with his hands. He always prided himself on the precision and organisational skills of his mind, like he was a human computer. He could compartmentalize, push aside anything he needed to - hell, being nearly starved and in agony in a cave in Afghanistan wasn’t enough to keep him from working. But Peter fucking Parker was there, shoving his way to the front of his head. 

“Bad day?” Steve’s voice quips from the entrance to the lab. Tony takes his hands away from his face and tilts his head to the side, staring at him blankly.

“Does Tony Stark ever have a good day?” He replies, leaning forwards to grab Peter’s ball off of his desk. He rests back against his stool, throwing it into the air. “What brings you down here?”

“Well, Peter’s up and about again and you’re sulking down here. Thought I’d let you know,” Steve’s eyes follow the ball as it flies into the air and back down again, “New toy?”

“Not my creation, unfortunately. It’s Pete’s,” He throws it to Steve, who catches it with ease. He starts to toss it into the air too, a proud smile spreading across his face.

“Smart kid. You think he’s gonna be the new Tony Stark?” 

“I hope not. But he will be Peter Parker, head of Parker Industries.” Tony watches the ball still in Steve’s hands, not quite feeling like looking at his face after his admission.

“Tony, are you serious?” Tony shrugs, putting his hands behind his head, staring at a picture on the wall.

“I’ve gotta retire sometime and when I do, I need an heir.”

“Tony,” Steve says. Tony still keeps his eyes on the picture, because he doesn’t trust his face not to crumble, not when it’s Steve. “Tony, look at me.” He does. Tony schools his expression, crosses his arms across his chest, and nibbles at the inside of his lip. “You’re Tony Stark. It takes years to gain your trust and even then it’s shaky at best. You’ve known this kid for a little over a month and you’d give it all to him?”

Tony forces his shrug to be as casual as he can and doesn’t reply. He doesn’t trust his voice. Steve can see he’s not going to get through to him though, as he lets out a sigh.

“So, if you’ve got so much faith in Peter, why do you keep pushing him away and then hiding from him? Why keep fighting him?”

And Tony wants to reply to the question, he does, but for once in his life he doesn’t actually know the answer.

-x-

He eventually caves and joins the rest of the Avengers upstairs, who are once again causing a ruckus in his lounge. House arrest was both a blessing and a curse.

It looks like Peter’s dragged his friends to hang around too, as they were also victims of the house arrest. Tony scans the group until he sees the familiar, tousled hair of Peter. His head is tilted back and he’s laughing hard at something Saul’s said to him, arm wrapped around his stomach. Tony’s heart thuds and he clears his throat, willing it to return to a normal, acceptable speed.

When Peter brings his head back down, breathing heavily and wiping a tear from his eye, he catches sight of Tony and the smile slowly drops from his face. _ Okay, not exxactly a positive reaction. _MJ follows Peter’s gaze, to see what it was that had drawn his attention away. She smirks at him.

_ Best get it over with. _

Tony walks up to the group and leans an elbow on the back of the sofa they’re sitting on.

“You’re all awfully chipper for people in prison,” he says, though he feels like the bottles of beer and spirits on the coffee table are probably to blame for that. Peter’s face is hard, refusing to meet Tony’s gaze, and he tips back the rest of what was definitely not just Coke into his mouth. Tony watches a trickle of it escape the edge of his mouth and run down the side of his neck.

“We don’t have to go to work or college and we’re not gonna get fired or expelled for it, ‘cos there’s a threat on our lives,” MJ says, “Tell me why we shouldn’t be happy again?”

Tony can’t fault that. He joins the group, taking a seat next to the quiet girl, and leans forward to pour himself a glass from the half-full bottle of whiskey. After a moment of thought, he ditches the glass and takes the entire bottle, swigging from it, chugging it back like it was water.

“How you feelin’, Mr Leeds? Sorry for, you know, sending you out to get kidnapped and everything” He says to Ned, who jitters slightly at the acknowledgement. He’s got a bandage wrapped around the side of his head and a couple of band aids on his arms. He shrugs in reply.

“Don’t regret any of it, not even for a minute. I’d do it all again if it meant I could save Peter.”

Peter’s face warms at this and he leans forwards to clap Ned on the back, giddy smile on his face. Clearly Peter had been the culprit for many of the empty bottles and cans on the table in front of them.

“I love you, man,” Peter’s voice wobbles, grinning at Ned and then pulling him into a hug. Ned returns it, pulling away to grin back.

“Have to admit, I’m a bit disappointed it wasn’t me, now,” Saul slurs, eyes twinkling at Peter, “If it means I’ll have the attention of Peter Parker all night, I’ll walk out there right now and wait to get taken.”

Tony bristles, eyes narrowing at the boy. Saul sends Tony a look through his half-lidded, always-tired eyes, thick lips quirking up at the side. Their staring match is broken off when Peter pulls Saul into his side, arm around his neck.

“I love you, too,” Peter says, words blending into each other. Peter removes his arm but allows Saul to slowly slide his head down onto Peter’s outstretched legs. Tony swallows another three mouthfuls of whiskey, head fuzzy with annoyance and the hard-hitting alcohol.

When Tony’s eyes fall back onto Peter, he’s surprised to see him staring right back at him. His eyes are unfocused and bleary, but he can still see the anger. _ What right did Peter have to be angry at him for? He was the one who ran into danger, who scared the hell out of Tony, who wouldn’t stop disagreeing with him about everything-- _

“Nice of you to join us,” Steve sits down next to Tony. “I have to admit, it’s barely been a day and I already want to get out of here. How long do you think it’ll be before Diaz tries to kill us all?”

Tony snorts, reluctantly taking his gaze away from Peter, who’s smiling down at Saul’s head in his lap. He sees Steve sitting next to him, small smile on his face, white t-shirt tight across his chest and jeans sitting snug around his hips. Then he gets an idea. He casts a quick glance over to Peter before stretching an arm over the back of the sofa behind Steve, edging closer to him. He presses his thumb into Steve’s shoulder.

“He’s probably not the most patient person; he did snatch someone in broad daylight. Can’t imagine it’ll be more than a week,” Tony murmurs, quiet enough so that only Steve can hear him, acting like they’re talking about something entirely different. He turns his body away from Peter and his friends to face Steve completely. _ What are you doing, Tony? _“You excited about smacking some bad guy around?”

“Always,” Steve replies, grinning at him. Tony raises the bottle in his hand to that, before taking a gulp. He offers it to Steve, who takes it from him with a smile and drinks it himself, Tony’s eyes on him the entire time. 

He hears Peter excusing himself from his friends and looks up as he passes, watching him almost stumble over the edge of the table. His legs are wobbling and he’s not walking in a straight line, but he manages to make it round the corner into the corridor without falling over.

Steve’s saying something to Tony but his drowsy brain isn’t computing it. He finishes the rest of his whiskey in three big glugs and then he stands to his feet, clamping a hand to his head when the alcohol hits him all at once. 

“You okay?” Steve asks, holding his hands out as if steady him. Tony waves him away before pushing his feet forwards, away from the group and towards the corner Peter had just turned. He doesn’t know why he’s following him, doesn’t know what the _ hell _is wrong with him--

He stops when he finds Peter sitting down on the floor, head on his pulled-up knees. Now that he’s here, in front of Peter, simmering anger and frustration swirling around in his blurry mind, he doesn’t know what to do or what to say.

“For someone that can’t legally drink, you’ve done an awful lot of it,” he finally says, hating the words the moment they come out of his mouth. He wants to shout, shake Peter and ask him why he’d ran into danger alone, wants to ask him why he’s made Tony care so much. Peter lifts his head and Tony swallows at the look in his eyes because he’s seen Peter happy, sad, annoyed but he’s never seen him like this. He’s _ fuming. _

He scrambles to his feet, almost tripping over them as he does so and Tony reaches out a hand to steady him. Peter smacks it away and Tony draws it back, clenching his jaw. So that’s how it is.

“What do you want?” Peter hisses through his teeth, placing a hand on the wall to steady himself. “Haven’t you scolded me enough? Are you here to ground me?”

Tony’s fists tighten.

“I wouldn’t have to scold you if you didn’t act like a _ child--” _

“That’s just it! I’m not a child and I’m not acting like one. You want to shout at me for running off without backup, fine, go ahead. But-- But I’ve heard the stories about you, Mr Stark, and I know you would have done _ exactly _the same thing, so don’t you dare tell me that’s the reason you’re so angry with me,” Peter shouts back, some words catching and some coming out slurred. Tony walks towards him and even though Peter is definitely the strongest of the two, he still takes a few uneasy steps back.

“You want to know why I’m so angry? Why don’t we start with why you won’t listen to me? If anyone else - _ anyone - _asks you to do something, you obey like a trained little puppy. But you fight me every inch of the way like some sort of rebellious teen--” He’s cut off when Peter grabs him by the collar and flips him around, shoving him up against the wall. A small fissure runs up the plaster when he pushes himself closer, fists still bunched into Tony’s shirt, nose almost pressed to his.

“What do I have to do,” Peter whispers, “to make you see me as more than a kid?” 

And Tony doesn’t know, he doesn’t know why he insists on bringing up what he knows is a soft spot, because Peter is not a kid in his eyes, not since he’d looked through that magazine, slack-jawed; not since he’d seen him strip his suit off on that stage and face everyone with solid determination. Tony’s brain can’t keep up, alcohol and adrenaline pumping through his veins. Peter’s so close, breath fanning across his mouth, anger making his fists tremble, the skin of his knuckles brushing along Tony’s collarbone.

He tries to push a hand against Peter’s chest to make the space between them wider, but his traitorous fingers just tangle themselves into Peter’s black, silky shirt and he swallows, raising his gaze back up to Peter’s.

“Back off, Parker,” He murmurs back, though his hand says otherwise, gripping hold of him tighter. It’s got to be magic - the anger in Peter’s eyes washes away like waves, eyebrows softening, mouth opening. Tony watches his eyes travel from the top of Tony’s head to his cheeks, his eyes, then fall onto his lips. Tony can feel the skin on the back of his neck prickling and one of Peter’s fingers uncurls itself from his t-shirt to brush over his collarbone lightly. He’s getting closer and their noses bump, once, twice, and Tony can smell the Coke on Peter’s breath, feels the fists in his collar loosen but still hold on, sucks in a breath when Peter’s top lip brushes against his--

A burst of laughter in the room round the corner makes them both jump apart like an electric current had separated them. They stand there, both breathing in oxygen like they’d been starved of it, their clothes rumpled and wrinkled. Peter looks petrified and Tony knows he looks exactly the same.

“I-It’s fine, everything’s fine, Mr Stark, I’m sorry for being stupid, lets just carry on like this never happened, okay? I’m not mad anymore, I promise,” Peter says, “I’m just gonna…” He jabs a thumb towards the lounge and then leaves, back stiff, legs still struggling to walk straight.

Tony’s glad there’s a wall behind him because he needs it right now. He can’t feel his legs, can’t feel any part of his body, actually. The room’s spinning, more than it had been five minutes ago, and he can’t catch his breath no matter how much he breathes in. He lifts a hand and pushes the back of it against his mouth, trying to wipe away the feeling of lips brushing his, but it doesn’t go.

He could be wrong - he’s been wrong about a lot of things - but he’s about ninety percent certain that Peter had almost kissed him.

And he was going to let him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i just wanted to write this to say thanks to everyone whose been commenting, you've literally been the reason i've been so excited to post new chaps and get this fic finished!!!
> 
> there's probably around four chapters left at this point, as i'm actually nearing the end of finishing the fic (I'm way ahead of what i've uploaded), so updates will be quick!! i've also got an idea for another fic in the works so expect another one from me soon!!


	13. Chapter 13

“Really? How old are you guys?”

Peter rouses from his deep sleep and it takes a while for everything to slot into place, each part of his body feeling a different ache. His head feels too heavy for his shoulders, there’s no moisture left in his mouth, and his neck feels stiff. With a yawn he sits up, rubbing at his eyes in an attempt to get them to open. He opens them a crack, then bit by bit, taking in the light of the lounge slowly.

He looks around at everyone else, who are also starting to rise. The person behind him sniffs and shuffles awake and he realises that -  _ again  _ \- he’d been using someone as a pillow. At least this time it was only Saul.

He can see Steve on the floor propped up against the kitchen counter, legs outstretched, Bruce’s head on one side of his lap and Natasha’s on the other. Tony’s sitting up on the sofa near Peter, MJ’s head on his shoulder, both of them still fast asleep. Ned and Kate are both curled up at separate ends of the couch opposite him.

Pepper’s standing at the door to lounge, hands on her hips, looking around at them all both in disappointment and fondness. She walks over to Tony, who’s still blissfully asleep and pokes him in the side of the head. He wakes up startled, shifting enough to annoy MJ, who lets out a groan in her sleep, cheek still pressed into his shoulder. Tony looks around in confusion for a moment, taking in his surroundings. When he notices MJ on his shoulder, he quirks a smile and leans back, making sure to stay still when he looks up at Pepper.

“Drinking until you pass out at your age, honestly,” She shakes her head at him. He smirks back at her.

“Blame the young people, we’re the victims here.”

“I’m sure you are,” Pepper replies, not believing him for a second. “I’ve got another present for you, but I have a feeling you won’t like this one.”

Peter watches as Pepper passes Tony a magazine, watches his face fall. His gaze flicks over to Peter once and that’s all it takes for Peter to know whatever it was, it involved him. He pushes himself to his feet, walks over to where Tony’s sat. He breathes in sharply, panic hitting him square in the chest.

Even upside down, he knows what the picture’s of. And he can see the headline, loud and clear.

_ SHOCKING: Does Spideman Have A Schoolboy Crush On Iron Man? _

He takes the magazine from Tony’s hands and Tony lets him take it, eyes not leaving his face. Peter holds it with shaking hands, swallows down the large lump in his throat. It’s from the day he’d saved Ned and the picture is pixelated, obviously taken with a phone and blown up to fit the front of the magazine, but it’s clear that it’s them. It’s the hug. But it’s only showing the back of Tony’s head; Peter’s face is there and open for everyone to see. His eyes are closed, nose pressed into the side of Tony’s head, a happy, content smile on his lips.

The alcohol from the night before churns in his stomach and he thinks he can calm it, control himself, but it’s coming up. He chucks the magazine back into Tony’s lap and pulls a nearby trashcan to his face to throw up. He spits out the leftover vomit from his mouth and wipes his hand across the back of his mouth, placing the trashcan away from everyone. He picks up a lukewarm, unfinished can of beer from the table and takes a big mouthful. MJ’s blinking sleep out of her eyes and lifting her head from Tony’s shoulder when she sees the magazine sitting in his lap. Her face twists into one of annoyance.

“Fucking paps,” She mutters, picking the magazine up, eyes running over the picture. “You’re not even at school anymore, idiots.” And she throws it across the room, leaning back against the sofa. It lands with a thud into the trash can Peter just puked into and even though his guts are still churning, embarrassment and shame engraved into his bones, Peter laughs. Because MJ dismissing something that was such a big deal to him, in such a small way, showing utter disgust, is all he needed to feel better about it all. 

She grins at him. 

“How about we take a picture of their precious magazine covered in your sick, see if they want to print that?” She says and Peter keeps laughing. He walks over to her, leans in, and gives her the biggest hug he can manage, ignoring the way his shoulder brushes Tony’s in the process.

“Thank you,” He whispers into her ear, the humiliation at the whole situation dissipating from his body. He pulls away, ignoring Tony’s eyes on his because  _ that  _ was something he didn’t feel like diving into right now. He stretches, ignoring Pepper and Tony’s looks of disbelief and walks over to the kitchen in search of food.

-x-

Peter should have known the fallout from the magazine wasn’t going to be as easy as laughing it away. It only takes one magazine with one stupid headline for it to spread like a disease to all of the others and suddenly, there’s all sorts of pictures and quotes and moments being used against him. Most from the day he’d revealed his identity, with Tony and him staring at each other up on the stage, or other discreet snaps from that day with Mr Diaz. It was strange, how it had seemed like no one was around, and yet there were more and more pictures emerging. There was even one video, which Peter absolutely refused to watch.

He was a masochist, he knew, going through the internet the way he was, looking at all of the results. Strangely enough, half were supportive of his pursuit - the pursuit of Tony Stark that definitely did not exist. Saying that he was the light Tony Stark needed, or how they were made for each other, science bros, etc etc. The other half were not so nice. Discussing exactly how old Peter was when they’d first met - was he fifteen? Still in high school? Was that when the attraction had started? Was Peter chasing Tony for the money? His run-down life was bought into it and it reminds Peter of just how  _ bad  _ the world could be to people sometimes.

And this was why he’d never wanted his life in the limelight.

There’s a knock at his bedroom door, slow and cautious. He wipes a hand down the glass screen of the tablet, minimising the window, then gets up to open the door. It’s his aunt.  _ Shit. _ She pushes past him without waiting for an invitation and sits down on the edge of his bed, face unreadable.

“Now, Peter--”

“May, it’s not how it looks. You  _ know  _ this is what the media does. Why do you think I wanted to keep you and me out of it? I knew something like this would happen, please, just don’t read any of it--” He’s cut off when May gets to her feet and pulls him into a hug.

“I’m not stupid, Peter, I know I read a lot of these magazines and read a lot about the entertainment industry but I don’t believe everything they print,” She says, pulling away and giving him a sympathetic smile. “I’m not here about any of those stupid headlines dragging you and Mr Stark through the mud.”

Peter nods sharply, swallowing heavily, feeling a bit relieved. She turns away from him, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She taps on it a few times and lifts it up to show him what’s on the screen. It’s the video of Mr Stark finding him hunched against the wall. Peter’s mouth goes dry as he watches Tony bend down in front of him, hands pressing into his cheeks. His own cheeks tingle at the memory. Then he watches him pull him into a hug and from an outsiders point of view, it _ is _ strangely intimate. The way Tony tilts his head into his, the way Peter smiles and slowly wraps his arms around him, closing his eyes like he’s enjoying every moment.

_ Which he had been. _

He pushes that thought away quickly, looking blankly up at his aunt’s eyes. She’s staring back, waiting for him to say something.

“You know I don’t approve.” His stomach feels like it’s just fallen through the floor and it doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t matter.

“There’s nothing to not approve of May, trust me, he was just-- we’re friends. Not even that. We argue half the time, we’re always fighting, he treats me like a child. Please, just--” Peter sits on the edge of his bed and puts his head in his hands. It’s too much. He can feel the tears prickling at the back of his eyes because what  _ was  _ it? What were they? The memories of the night before flutter through his head, most of it a blur, but he definitely remembers having Tony against the wall, remembers their noses touching and--

He sniffs and lets May sit on the bed next to him, pulling him into her side. 

“Okay. It’s okay, Peter. I know this is a lot. I’m sorry,” She says comfortingly, stroking her hand through his hair. He lets out a huff of laughter, but it sounds thick through his attempt to hold back tears. One manages to escape and rolls down his cheek, onto May’s jumper.

“I should be saying sorry to you. You don’t deserve to be put under the spotlight with me.”

“On the contrary, I’m finding it pretty awesome. You know I got asked for a photoshoot? Apparently Spiderman’s Hot Aunt is a thing.” Peter laughs properly this time, pulling away from her comforting hug.

“Ew,” He says, smiling at her. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” 

“I’ve been offered a job too, actually,” She grins at him. “Down at The Ritz, just a receptionist job. Apparently being linked to Spiderman will bring in more customers. Hope you don’t mind me exploiting your not-so-secret identity.”

Peter’s entire face lights up. “Are you kidding me? The Ritz? Exploit away! That’s amazing, May.”

“I’ll be able to get out of that apartment, finally. I’m thinking of moving into one of those little communities, you know, where there’s a huge patch of grass out of the front of the house and there’s weekly barbecues. I’m totally suited for that life.” She ruffles his hair and stands up, smiling down at him. “I just wanted you to know there’s always an upside to the bad things.”

Peter smiles back at her, taking her hand and gripping it tightly for a second before letting it go. “Thanks, May.”

She turns to leave, opens the door, then hesitates. When she turns back around, her face is a lot more serious.

“I trust you, Peter. You know I do. But I don’t know Tony Stark. You might not say that video has any merit but he might think it does. So… be careful.” She’s gone before Peter can protest, closing the door behind her.

Peter stares down at his hands. The same hands that had been bunched up in Tony Stark’s t-shirt the night before, the same hands that had shoved him against the wall and held him there when he’d almost--

He breathes in, breathes out, calming himself. He was being stupid. He was drunk, angry, and remembering things differently to how they’d gone. He remembers Tony telling him to back off, remembers him obliging and walking away. That was all that had happened. 

Feeling a bit better, he stands up and decides to head down to the lab.

-x-

Tony’s  _ bored _ . For once in his life, he actually wanted the evil guy to come knocking on their door to start a fight. The waiting was much more torturous, not knowing what to do with himself, or when danger was going to come blasting through the walls at any moment. 

He rests his feet on the desk in front of him, using the heel of his foot to push away all of the little scraps he’d been playing with, and put his hands behind his head, staring up at the high ceiling. He tries to remember the night before, tries to think and sort through the blur of alcohol and lack of sleep in his memories, but all he can see is Peter’s face, angry and breathing heavily, right in front of his.

So they’d had a fight, that was great. Would explain why his back was in agony, the bruising spreading all the way to his shoulder blade.

The door to the lab opens and he quirks his head to the side, expecting Steve or Bruce. But it’s Peter who comes bouncing in, surprisingly spry and happy for a kid who was vomiting and near to a breakdown six hours ago.

“Hey, Mr Stark,” He throws at him casually, even passing him a quick smile before he settles himself down at one of the counters. He drags the ball that Tony had been playing with recently over to himself, lying out some tools. Tony’s speechless.

“I thought we were fighting? Aren’t we fighting? Shouldn’t you be walking around in that stupid huffy way that you do when you’re annoyed?” Tony says, straightening up. Peter frowns in confusion, inserting a pin into the ball that extends the metal arms. 

“I told you last night to forget it, that I’m sorry, etcetera. Plus,” Peter shrugs, grinning, though he won’t look at him, “I don’t like being mad at you.”

Tony’s eyebrows shoot up and he lets out a laugh of disbelief. “Fair enough. I’m not complaining.” Peter smiles warmly, eyes on the ball in front of him which he’s lifting onto a stand carefully. He starts poking and prodding it with the tools in front of him. Tony watches him for a moment, feeling all warm and fuzzy. Well, today was looking better already. 

“Hey, you doin’ alright after the whole media destruction and everything?” Tony asks cautiously. Peter nods, not taking his eyes off of the project in front of him.

“It’s what they do, isn’t it? Should have known something would come up one way or another,” He replies quietly, detaching a piece of metal plate from the arm. 

“Yeah, but they didn’t exactly go easy on you. Of all the things to be on the front page about…” God, Tony feels like he’s blushing and he can’t be because he doesn’t  _ blush.  _ But the insinuation splashed across the front page that morning hadn’t left him completely unfazed either. Peter throws a quick look at him, but won’t look him in the eyes for longer than a second.

“Having a crush on Tony Stark isn’t news. There’s people all over the world who have one, I just happened to be important enough to print about.”

Tony’s heart stops and he feels a grin spreading across his face.

“Sorry, but did you just accidentally acknowledge that you have a crush on Tony Stark himself?” Tony jokes, and the clatter of the tool that Peter drops in panic nearly makes him laugh out loud, despite the heat in his own cheeks.

“Mr Stark, I didn’t-- You’re ridiculous,” Peter smiles, though it looks strained. And he  _ still won’t look at him. _ Tony steps forwards, closer and closer and closer, until he’s in front of the counter that Peter’s working at. Peter basically ignores him, save for a passing glance that he sends his way. 

And it’s then that he remembers. The argument, the wall he was pressed up against, his hand tangled in Peter’s shirt, their noses rubbing together, breaths colliding, Peter’s top lip brushing his--

He grips the side of the counter, smile gone. 

“Peter.” 

“Hm?” Peter replies, but he’s got his nose pressed into his project, twisting a screw and moving metal parts around his table. Tony grits his teeth because now it’s obvious, now he’s standing right in front of him and calling his name, Peter won’t look at him. He’s refusing to.

“Look at me.” 

“I’m sorry, Mr Stark, I’m just really busy, I wanted to get this finished before--”

“I get it, pretend it never happened, it’ll go away, right? That’s called the Tony Stark approach and trust me, it’s never worked,” Tony says, moving his way round to Peter’s side of the counter. “You want to tell me why I’ve got a bruise the size of Texas running up my back and a real funny memory of you looking like you’re about to kill me?” 

He watches Peter’s throat bob as he swallows, realisation crossing his face. He’d obviously assumed Tony had remembered what had happened and had decided to ignore it. Better for him that way, Tony thought. Shame it didn’t work. 

Tony doesn’t know why he’s pushing, right when things had seemed like they were going back to normal. He should have left it, let yesterday be some weird drunken fluke, but  _ god  _ he loved the way Peter’s jaw throbbed when he was clenching his teeth, loved the way his eyes lit up with annoyance, and he knew deep down that Peter couldn’t just let it go. Not when he looked like he was practically bursting apart at the seams from stress and worry, no matter how much he smiled to cover it up.

“We were fighting, you pissed me off, I pushed you against a wall, we argued some more, I left,” Peter explains, connecting the metal plate back onto the ball. Tony moves closer and closer until Peter’s head is level with his chest and he won’t take his eyes off of Peter. 

“No, you see, I’m pretty good at remembering my drunken activities, though it does take a while. And if I think real hard, there’s something missing in your little story. Maybe I’m just remembering it wrong, old age and all that--”

“Tony.” Tony’s mouth snaps shut immediately and Peter’s finally  _ finally  _ looking at him, eyes on fire, jaw clenched. He’d said his name. “Please just drop it, it’s not funny.” 

Letting out a sigh, Tony leans back against the counter.

“Kid, if I had a penny for every Avenger I’ve tried to make out with during a drinking session, I’d have double the amount of money I have now, which is a  _ lot _ ,” Tony says in an attempt to ease the tension that was slowly building between them. Because that’s all it had been. Peter, drunk, and Tony’s face pushed close to his. An opportunity for an alcohol-pickled brain to get some contact.

“Really?” Peter says, the anger in his eyes melting away, being replaced with relief. “Who?”

“Steve, Sam, Thor, Nat, even Vision on one occasion and let me tell you, that did not go down well…” A grin spreads across his face when Peter starts to laugh, and he already looks lighter. Tony ignores the tiny prickle of disappointment he feels. “Thor, on the other hand, he was kind of into it. Steve had to cut in before it got a little more serious.” And now Peter’s laughing harder, pressing his red face into his hands.

“I can’t believe you kissed Thor,” He mumbles into his hands. Tony shrugs, even though Peter can’t see him.

“As far as I’m concerned, unless you’ve made out with at least one Avenger, you’re not part of the team.” That has Peter laughing all over again, though when he takes his hands away from his face, the smile is falling. His eyes drift off, thoughtful for a moment, before he turns his body towards Tony, a nervous smile spreading across his face.

“Mr Stark,” He whispers, “We didn’t actually…” And then he’s staring at Tony’s lips and Tony feels a spike of adrenaline tingle up his spine, heat rushing to his head, making him dizzy.  _ Was Peter… _

“Guess you’re not an Avenger yet, then,” Tony croaks back, sending him what he hopes comes across as a playful smile, though he’s struggling to keep it on his face. When Peter swallows, Tony’s eyes follow the movement in his neck. And Tony, damn it, he just can’t help himself, his damn personality and his need to always, always be the gross one in the room; “Want me to fix that?”

What he doesn’t expect is for Peter to stare back at him in complete seriousness and then, after a minute of intense silence, nod quickly. A bolt of panic bursts through Tony.

_ Fuck. _

And before Tony can tell his body to stop, that he’s being stupid, that this is a fucking ridiculous thing to do to a kid who he’s just joking around with, he’s stepping forwards, grabbing Peter’s head in his hands and bending down to kiss him.

He pushes their lips together firmly, hands running up the back of Peter’s head, nails scratching against his scalp. Peter lets out a small whimper, his fingers clenching tighter into Tony’s t-shirt, and he tips Peter’s head back further with a tug to his hair, his mouth moving against Peter’s soft lips easily, slowly, tenderly.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck.  _ Tony moves even closer, nudges Peter’s legs apart with his knee, moving in between them. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding into Peter’s mouth and the sound he gets from Peter in return makes him weak in the knees.

_ What are you doing, Tony, stop, stop, stop-- _

_ “Sir, we’ve detected a security breach in the vent system. _ ”

Tony pulls away from Peter, leaving him hanging slightly off of his stool, lips red and still slightly-open. They both stare at each other in shock, breathless, because even though he’d asked for it, even though Tony had done it, they hadn’t expected it to feel like that. Not like they were finally getting the air they needed after almost drowning.

“Where? Who?” Tony asks Friday, not taking his eyes off of Peter.

_ “There has been an object placed inside Vent 103. It appears to be the serum in gas form. It is due to detonate in five minutes.”  _

_ Shit.  _ Tony and Peter snap out of their daze, both of them pressing the buttons on their chests and letting the nanobots coat their bodies until they’re both in their suits of armour. Tony runs out of the lab, Peter on his heels, and they jump into the open elevator, Tony hammering one of the buttons. When the doors finally close, all outside noises are muted and they’re left in a heavy, uncomfortable silence. 

Tony clears his throat.

“Welcome to the Avengers, kid.” 

And even though their masks are on, the look they know they’re giving each other is enough. Peter breaks into bordering-on-hysterical laughter, and Tony can’t help but laugh too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i just want to say that i'm british so i apologise for any britishisms i've put in this fic, trying to keep it all american is more challenging then u think
> 
> also, I KNOW THEY JUST KISSED and im super paranoid about how i wrote it and how it was a bit out of the blue and prob what u didnt want, but this isnt gonna (technically) be their first kiss and its gonna be a while until its acknowledged again
> 
> not many chapters left to go now, hope u liked this one!!!
> 
> (and i realise there's a lot in this fic that's unrealistic and dumb but i just wanted to write a lot of fluff with a side of plot so pls ignore the atrocious plotline)


	14. Chapter 14

Steve and Bruce are already waiting for them in lounge by the time they arrive, along with Peter’s friends and his aunt, who are being herded into the seating area by Natasha. 

“We need to get them out of here, now,” Tony says the moment he walks in, retracting his mask back into his chestpiece. 

“Can’t, building’s on lockdown. No one’s coming in or out,” Steve says, “We tried the doors in the lobby but they’re jammed shut.”

“Friday, can’t you override whatever bullshit code Diaz has put into our systems?” Tony asks exasperatedly, glancing around at all of Peter’s friends and his aunt, who should  _ definitely  _ be looking more scared than they are.

“ _ Negative, sir. It appears as though it was done internally, Unit 34, forty-fifth floor” _

Tony curses under his breath and runs a hand through his hair. 

“So he’s here, right? Diaz is here?” Bruce says, and he’s starting to look a little panicked. Must suck, to be a guy who walked around assured that he’d never be killed and then suddenly be looking into the face of what could be certain death for him.

“Seems like it, got up to the forty-fifth floor without raising any alarms,” Natasha replies, “Is it weird I’m almost jealous? I’d die to be that level of stealthy.”

Tony glances to the number counting down in the corner of his glasses. Three minutes before the canister detonated. There wasn’t any way of getting everyone out in time and finding Diaz was going to be a nightmare.

“Right, okay, I’ve got a plan,” Tony gestures for them all to huddle together, including Peter’s friends and Aunt. “In about three minutes, the serum is gonna be released into the building through Vent 103, which is luckily only the top half of the tower. All of the employees should be safe on the bottom floor, lock them in the airtight safe that I like to pretend all my money is stored in.” Tony quirks a smile at everyone, “Also, take the kid’s comrades down there too, so that we know they’re safe--”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not going anywhere,” MJ interrupts, throwing herself into the sofa behind her. “You’re gonna need to split up to find this guy, and there’s only five of you and about a hundred floors. So…”

“Great, well, thanks for the offer, it was nice knowing you, hope the funeral goes well and everything.” Tony replies bluntly. “Don’t be an idiot, the moment you inhale that gas you’ll be dead.”

“Not with this,” MJ lifts up the mask to Peter’s old suit and pulls it over her head. “Filtration system, I’ll be breathing in clean air, baby. Now tell me what floors I’m searching.”

“MJ, no way, Mr Stark’s right, you came here so we could protect you, not put you in danger.” Peter moves forwards to pull the mask off of her face, but she dodges him.

“Guess I should probably give these back then, if we’re not allowed to help,” Ned rolls up his sleeves and reveals two of Peter’s old webshooters. Peter face-palms.

“You really need to keep a tighter rein on your tech,” Steve says, though he’s trying to hide his smile. Tony can’t help the small smile dancing around his lips too. Of course Peter would surround himself people just as brave and self-sacrificing as himself.

“Well, it’s either you let us help or you leave us die up here, because I mean, I’m ready to go out in a blaze of glory and there’s good alcohol here, but I’d rather live,” Saul says and Tony ogles at the piece of machinery clipped around his hand. It’s one of the old prototypes of a repulsor cannon and Tony  _ knows  _ he hadn’t given it to him.

Kate says nothing, just pulls out two tiny knives that look very similar to the ones he’d made for Nat once, which she’d not gotten on with. May is holding a can of pepper spray.

He lets out a bark of laughter and then slaps his hand to his mouth, swallowing it back down when Peter looks at him, clearly distressed.

“Looks like they’re not going anywhere, kid,” He says with a grin. Peter shoulders sag in defeat; Tony had been his last chance to convince them otherwise. “Right, guess you’ll need these.” He leans over and reaches into the draw beside him, pulling out a bag of small buttons. He threw one to every person in the room without a mask. “Press it to your chest and activate.”

They all do as he says. There’s tiny clicks and metallic noises as every person in the room - other than him, Peter and MJ - suddenly have an Iron Man mask assembled together around their heads.

“I’m in heaven. I’ve already died and gone to heaven,” Ned’s voice comes through the speakers inside Tony’s helmet and he’s glad it hides his grin; he’d never get over how much he loved putting people into a state of awe.

The number on Tony’s HUD blinks and it’s down to two minutes. They had to get moving, hopefully to find the canister and the douche it belonged to. This was it; they were going to get him. They’d finally be safe again. Steve steps forwards, hands on his hips, and it’s a bit jarring to see him wearing his Captain America suit with a blue Iron Man helmet on top of it. If Civil-War Tony could see him now…

“Nat, you head for Vent 108, see if you can deactivate the gas bomb. Banner, you take floors twenty to twenty-five. I’ll take twenty-six to thirty. Tony, thirty to thirty-five. Peter, we’re gonna need you up top, so forty-five to fifty. And you guys,” He gestures at the rest of them, all standing around weidling their stolen weapons and borrowed helmets, “You take thirty-six to forty-five. Split up and do  _ not  _ interact with the target if you spot him. You’re simply here for recon  _ only. _ Miss Parker, I’m gonna have to ask you to head down to the safe with the rest of the employees - yes, I know, I’m very sorry, but we can’t risk it.” 

Even with the Iron Man mask on - a sight Tony never thought he’d see - she looks dejected. She runs over to Peter and pulls him into a hug.

“Be careful. Don’t do anything stupid. And punch the asshole for me, okay?” Her voice plays through all of their helmets. Peter nods, Spiderman mask hiding whatever expression was on his face. She pulls away and runs to the elevator. 

“Right, that’s it. We’ve all got our mission.” Steve claps his hands together and picks up the shield lying on the sofa beside him. Tony looks around at their really,  _ really,  _ messed up team and shakes his head. 

“Can I say the thing?” Ned suddenly asks, bouncing up and down on the heels of his feet. “Come on, I want to say the thing.” 

Tony lifts a hand to rub at his forehead, even though he has his full suit of armor on. “Fine, say the thing.”

Ned puts one hand on his hips and points a finger from his other hand into the sky.

“Avengers… Assemble!”

And they all run off to their individual missions, laughter ringing through every one of their helmets.

-x-

Peter swings through the corridors, Karen scanning every room he passes for a heat signature that matches Mr Diaz’s. The counter in the corner of his mask said thirty seconds and he knew there was no way they’d be able to deactivate the bomb before it went off. He ignores the rush of panic he gets, crushes down all of his paranoid thoughts about the masks Tony had given them not working.

He couldn’t concentrate, not while knowing his friends were running around the tower, easy targets. He knew they had weapons - something he was definitely going to talk to them about later - but he couldn’t squash down the worry bursting through his chest. 

_ “Any sign? We got ten seconds before that thing goes off,” _ Steve’s voice echoes through his mask.

_ “Nothing,” _ Everyone says, most of them sounding breathless.

Peter swings his way towards Unit 34, where Tony had told him there should be a device that was jamming Friday’s code, preventing the main doors from opening. He lands softly and reaches for the panel on the side of the door, but then the floor beneath him starts to tremble. 

The whole building shakes, the glass in the pane in front of him rattling, and he presses a hand to the wall to steady himself, eyes raising worriedly to the air vent on the wall opposite him. There’s vapor pouring through it, an orange tinge running through it.

_ “It’s here, everyone, keep your masks on,”  _ Steve orders. Squashing down the fear that starts to crawl its way up his spine, Peter goes back to the panel. He types in a code, but the door beeps, the panel flashing red.

“Damn it,” He mutters to himself. He steps back and then with a deep breath, runs as hard as he can at the glass panel. He smashes through it easily, landing on the floor with a knee pressed to the shards. He shakes off the debris, looking around the room quickly.

There’s a piece of the wooden wall panel hanging off, revealing wires and a small device with a USB stick poking out of the side. Peter gets to his feet and runs over to it, eyes scanning the setup. Then with an annoyed grunt, he reaches in and pulls out the small monitor and keyboard, wincing at the sparks that fly from the wires.

_ “Systems back online. Doors can be now be opened,”  _ Friday says through his mask. He lets out a sigh of relief.

Then a fist connects with the side of his mask and he’s flying towards the glass conference table in the center of the room, smashing straight through it.

“You’re all going to die,” A twisted, inhuman voice growls from above Peter. He blinks away the heaviness, pressing a hand to his head, and lifts his eyes to Mr Diaz’s. Except he doesn’t look like Mr Diaz anymore. 

He’s wearing a metal gas mask and his body is completely disfigured, one arm bigger than the other. His legs are as thick as tree trunks, chest bulging underneath a skin-tight black onesie. Peter groans.

“Man, you really need a lesson on super villain costumes, ‘cos that’s got to be the worst one I’ve ever seen.”

Mr Diaz grunts and stalks towards him, arms too big to rest easily at his side. Peter rolls away, bouncing to his feet.

“I’ve found him, floor forty-five - looks like he’s turned himself into Shrek. I’ll try and keep him busy,” Peter says through the mic, flipping away from Mr Diaz’s incoming foot. “What the hell did you do to yourself?” He asks, sliding across the floor and doing circles around him, shooting a long strand of web as he goes. It doesn’t work; Mr Diaz breaks through it like it’s nothing but paper.

“Unfortunately,” Mr Diaz throws a punch at him and he’s quick, despite his size. It catches Peter on the back, sending him towards a wall, which he slams straight into. “Science does have its negative effects. I had to improvise.”

“Yeah, well, I’m glad you’ve got that mask on. Bet you look like Quasimodo under there,” Peter retorts, trying to hide the pain in his voice. Even with the suit’s defenses, he can still feel the aches and pains of bruises. 

Mr Diaz runs towards him and okay, a guy in a scary metal gas mask and a full black leotard sprinting towards you is real nightmare fuel. Peter stands to his feet and shoots as many webs as he can at his feet, trying to stop his charge. But each one just dissolves into nothing. He holds his arms up in front of himself, blocking the incoming impact.

Mr Diaz rams straight into him, knocking him off of his feet again, and then wraps a hand around his throat, lifting him up from the floor easily. Peter can feel the tightness around his throat, feels Diaz’s fingers curl in more and more, the suit crunching underneath them. He kicks his legs, tries to shoot web from his wrists, flaps his hands around in an attempt to grab the gas mask on Mr Diaz’s head. But he can’t do it, he’s too strong, and his vision is going blurry, oxygen depleting fast.

“I’m glad you were the first to go,” Mr Diaz growls, his distorted voice sending chills down Peter’s spine. “Goodbye, Peter.” And then he grabs hold of the spider emblem on Peter’s chest and rips it away, crunching it into pieces in his free hand.

The suit disappears with it and then Peter’s being dropped to the floor, gasping for air. But he’s breathing in the orange mist and Peter can feel it stinging his eyes, sending fire through his body, his lungs screaming--

Mr Diaz is blasted away from the front of Peter, the light making his eyes burn, and Peter squints through through the mist and blackness at the corner of his vision to see a figure walking towards him. It crouches down next to him and presses a hand to his chest. A helmet wraps itself around his head and he can breathe properly again, even if his lungs still feel like they’re alight, his eyes watering. He looks up at the person crouched next to him and even through the dampness and haze of his vision, he can tell who it is. And they’re sitting there, with no mask, smiling down at him.

“Told you I’d do anything to keep your cute little butt safe,” Saul says, his voice croaky and breathless.

“No-- No no no no,” Peter lifts a heavy hand to his chest, his fingers trembling violently, his entire body feeling like it was still shutting down. He tries to remove the button, tugs and tugs as much as he can until one of his fingernails start to bleed, but it’s like he’s in a dream trying to run and his feet won’t move. He doesn’t have any strength at all, not even to remove something so light, the serum still coursing through him. “Saul, take this off me right now,  _ right now,  _ put it back on, please, please…” Peter begs, voice gravelly. Saul just smirks, lifts Peter’s hand to place a kiss to his knuckles, and then his eyes roll into the back of his head and he falls over.

Mr Diaz is slowly getting to his feet on the other side of the room, a hole burnt through his overalls and a blooming, red mark on his chest. But Peter isn’t paying attention to him; he’s staring at Saul, lying on the floor with his eyes closed, long hair fanning across his face, his hand lying loose and open in front of his nose.

“Saul, get up, get up, get up,” Peter’s in agony and he knows it’s not the serum, he knows it’s guilt and pain and sadness coiling around his heart and squeezing until he can’t breathe. He wants to move, lift Saul into his arms and run from the room, but his legs still aren’t working and his eyes are drooping.

Then three other figures come flying into the room; it’s Tony, Steve and Natasha. They pause for a moment to take in the scene in front of them, but the second they spot Mr Diaz hunched over in the corner, they’re jumping into action. 

Peter watches, waits, because there’s nothing he can do.

“Mr Stark, Mr Stark please, give him another mask, please, wake him up,” Peter begs through the comms, but Tony’s smashing a fist into the side of Mr Diaz’s face, Steve is blocking an incoming punch with his shield and Natasha’s swiping her legs underneath him and making him fall to the floor. “Tony,  _ please. _ ”

“There’s no more, kid,” Tony replies, pressing a foot onto Mr Diaz’s chest and grinding his heel into him, getting a groan of pain in response. Steve, Nat and Tony are surrounding the fallen villain and Tony’s lifting a hand and placing the repulsor cannon directly on top of Mr Diaz’s chest. Diaz doesn’t look scared; he’s laughing and it rings in Peter’s ears, sets fire to the anguish in his stomach.

“Kill me if you want, there’s plenty of people like me out there. You think I didn’t have a backup plan? Come on, guys.” 

“Nope, we don’t do executions here, you’re going to a secure SHIELD facility, where I’m sure Nat will have a lot of fun with you.,” The gauntlet pushed into Diaz’s chest sends out the same vibranium thread they’d used to capture Matt and ties itself around his wrists. 

Peter can hear the words they’re saying, going into one ear and flying around his head. His eyes are still on Saul, whose chest isn’t moving, who can’t move and won’t move again. And something clicks in Peter’s mind; how was it fair that Saul was lying on the dirty floor while Diaz was being pulled to his feet, escorted out, still breathing? Still able to feel the sun on his face?

With the little bit of energy he’s recovered, he pushes a hand to the floor, almost relishing in the pain as glass shards dig into his palm. He stumbles across the room, one hand gripping his bleeding bicep and his bare feet dragging behind him, stepping onto the pieces of glass like it’s nothing but sand. Each one pierces the skin on the base of his foot until there’s a trail of blood being left behind him.

It takes too long for Steve, Tony and Nat to notice Peter is moving toward them, all of them keeping a strong grip on Diaz. It’s Tony who realises first and he drops one of Diaz’s arms, immediately moving toward Peter.

“Peter, stop--” Peter shoves him hard in the chest, sending him backwards through a wall. He can’t see anything but Diaz in front of him, breathing, moving, heart pumping. He vaguely registers Nat coming towards him, but he sends a web towards her, sticking her to the floor and making her topple over onto the glass-covered carpet. Steve’s next, but Peter’s too quick. He dodges his grasp, bends right underneath his outstretched arm, and places both of his trembling hands to Mr Diaz’s head.

Then he snaps his neck.

Mr Diaz falls to the floor in a crumpled heap, Peter standing over his body, chest heaving, blood searing his veins, head spinning and spinning until finally he crumples to the floor next to him, unable to hold himself up any longer.

He pulls his eyes open one last time and sees Ned, MJ and Kate standing at the broken doorway.

“Oh my God,” He hears Ned’s horrified whisper and then he blacks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry it was all over so quick!!! i did say this wasn't going to be a very plot heavy fic
> 
> also uploading two chapters in one day yay me


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So there's only one more chapter after this, then the epilogue. I wanted to suggest two songs to you, both of which are my go-to Starker songs, and ones I listen to frequently when I'm writing. 
> 
> Marianas Trench - Beside You  
Zac Efron & Zendaya - Rewrite the Stars
> 
> Also, I have a spotify playlist for anyone interested in the songs I listen to while I write (though I alternate between Korean Drama OST's, too)
> 
> [tony/peter playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4P9EIxk8OWhsLylX7hPqSf)
> 
> [AND I HAVE A STARKER TUMBLR TOO](https://ironspi.tumblr.com/)

Tony doesn’t know how long he’s been sat outside the medical bay, his head in his hands. He knows his back is aching, his stomach is completely empty, and his throat is dry and parched.

Luckily, he’s not alone. Everyone else sits around him, in various emotional states. Steve is trying his best to look neutral, but Tony can see straight through him, can see the guilt that’s suffocating him. Like it’s suffocating everyone else. Nat’s twirling a knife round in her fingers, frowning, and Banner’s hair is sticking up in all sorts of directions from where he’d been pulling and ruffling it.

It’s Peter’s friends he can’t look at. He can’t look at the silent tears pouring down Kate’s face - a face that looks so similar to the one lying in the morgue.  _ Twins. _ He can’t look at the spaced-out, emotionless expression on Ned’s usually-chipper face. MJ’s stoic, but Tony can see the unshed tears in her eyes, can see the way she’s swallowing hard to keep them at bay, jaw clenched and tight. He can’t-- because he’s the reason they’re here, the reason they’re waiting to see if their friend will ever wake up again, while their other friend lies cold and unmoving a few floors down from them.

Mostly, he doesn’t want to see Peter’s face - if he lived. Not only had he lost a friend, he’d killed a person. A prisoner, with his arms behind his back, no hesitation. Tony can’t get the image out of his head; the trail of blood, Peter twisting Diaz’s neck round so hard it faced the wrong side of his body, Peter standing over him, hands shaking, legs quivering. He never thought he’d be so glad to not be able to see his face.

The door opens and Doctor Yen walks out, followed by her assistant. Everyone stands up, except Kate, who’s staring at the floor, eyes vacant.

“He’ll be fine, his healing factor really is incredible. He’d inhaled enough of that gas to kill someone twice over. He’s strong.” 

Everyone sags in relief and slump back into their seats. MJ discreetly wipes away a tear that falls from one of her eyes. The relief doesn’t last long, though. The heaviness of what Peter had done is still swimming in the air around them.

“I don’t…” Ned says into the silence. “I don’t know what to say.”

“None of us do,” Bruce answers, reply muffled by the hands covering his face.

“You shouldn’t have been there, we should have put you somewhere safe--” Steve starts.

“If you start doing that heroic ‘it’s-all-my-fault’ thing, I’m gonna punch you right in the mouth,” MJ replies, folding her arms across her chest and sticking her chin in the air in determination. “We were right where we wanted to be.”

“You wanna say that to your friend?” Tony spits out, and immediately regrets it when Kate’s eyes immediately snaps to Tony’s. Her nose and cheeks are red from crying. He winces. “Sorry.”

“Saul--” She chokes a bit on the name, voice quiet. “We only had each other and our mom, for so long, and it was okay, but it always felt like our lives were… grey. After meeting Peter, everything felt brighter. Especially for Saul. He smiled more, lived better.” She sniffs and wipes the fresh tears from her cheeks. “He was in love with him, you know? He always felt like he was just moving through the motions, living because he had to. Peter was the reason he lived because he  _ wanted  _ to. I think…” She sniffs, “I think if Peter had died, Saul would have followed him. So, yeah,” She raises her suddenly-hardened eyes to Tony. “I think he was right where he wanted to be.”

Tony swallows, covering his eyes with his hand to hide the unshed tears that threatened to fall. He breathes in, breathes out, chest tight, waiting for them to fade. He wanted to see Peter. His heart was hurting, he felt like his entire body was made out of lead, he couldn’t stop the sadness swirling around inside him.

He feels a head come down to rest on his shoulder and when he moves his hand away to look, he’s greeted by MJ’s curly hair tickling his nose. He wraps an arm around her back, gripping her shoulder tightly, resting his cheek on top of her head.

“He’s going to need you,” She murmurs, only loud enough for him to hear. “You’re the only one who’ll get him through this.”

Tony lets out a humorless huff, a few strands of MJ’s hair dancing in front of his mouth.

“I’m the last person he’s going to need. It’ll be like using a bucket of dirt to polish a diamond”

“Peter’s not going to feel like a diamond when he wakes up. He’s gonna feel like he’s standing at the edge of the world with nowhere to go but the pit in front of him. He feels, T, more than anyone I’ve ever seen. And this is going to chew him up from the inside out.” MJ replies and she raises a hand to wipe away what Tony suspects is tears, though he can’t see her face. “He’s gonna need the person he loves to hold him back.”

Tony’s heart clenches in his chest and the hand that was gripping MJ’s shoulder loosens a little.

“What?”

“He has one picture in his room. Not his uncle, or his aunt, or even me or Ned. It’s of you and him, where he can see it every night before he falls asleep. He might not know it yet, ‘cos he’s an oblivious idiot, but he loves you. So just… help him.”

And that leaves Tony speechless. So he waits. He waits with everyone else, until Peter wakes up, preparing himself to be the person to hold him up.

-x-  


Peter wakes up long before he opens his eyes. He lies in bed, body aching from top to bottom, organs feeling like they’ve dried up. But he doesn’t want to be awake yet; doesn’t want to face what he’d done. What had happened.

He heaves in a deep breath, dust rattling in his lungs, and holds it. He didn’t want to be breathing. Not when Saul was god knows where, not breathing. 

His nose picks up the now-familiar smell of the medical bay and he can hear the voices on the other side of the door. He doesn’t strain his ears to listen - he knows they’re all standing out there, waiting for him. But he doesn’t want to see any of them. Doesn’t want to know what they’re talking about.

Mr Diaz was dead. He’d killed him, with his own hands.  _ What would Uncle Ben think of me now?  _ He thinks, clenching his fists into the sheets underneath him. The door slides open and he unwillingly opens his eyes to look at his guest.

Tony Stark stands in front of him, his usual casual, smug expression twisted into one of guilt, pity and sorrow. Peter stares at him, stares and stares until he can’t anymore. He rips his wet eyes away from him and onto the curtain next to him.

“Go away,” He croaks, looking anywhere but Tony.

“Not gonna happen,” Tony replies, moving to his side. Peter swallows, ignores the tears rolling down his cheeks and the squeeze across his heart that’s choking him.

“I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to be awake. Leave me alone,” He tries to sound angrier, but it comes out weak and hoarse. Tony keeps moving towards him until he’s standing in front of Peter’s face. He says nothing, just bends down and places a warm kiss to his forehead. 

Peter gives up.

He pulls on Tony’s t-shirt, dragging him onto the bed, and sits up, wrapping his arms around his neck. 

And then he cries and cries and cries.

-x-

There’s a funeral a week later, all paid for by Tony. Saul Chen gets an Avengers funeral, his coffin surrounded by Earth’s Mightiest Heroes and the empty shell of Spiderman.

-x-

It’s been three days after the funeral and Peter still hasn’t left his room; not for food, or water or anything. Tony had even moved MJ, Ned and Kate into rooms nearby, so he could call on his friends if he needed to. The only person Peter had bothered to see was Kate, who went into his room every evening and came back out in the morning, only to return to her room and sleep for the rest of the day. 

“This is bad,” Steve says, turning the coffee machine on. It’s Day Four of Peter’s Hibernation and he still hadn’t come out for food. “Doesn’t he have some super-hunger thing because of his metabolism? He must be near death by now.”

“Thanks Steve, great, good conversation to have over breakfast,” Tony quips, though he himself is only holding a cup of coffee, unable to stomach food. It felt like there was a part of him that was in that room with Peter, unable to eat or sleep. 

“Nat’s tracked down two more cells Mr Diaz leaked his formula to. She’s gonna head out in an hour to take them down. Should take a day or two,” Bruce says as he enters the room, leaning over the counter to pick up a piece of toast.

“That such a good idea, sending her out alone?” Steve asks, worry leaking onto his face.

“She’ll be fine - they wouldn’t have had time to make it yet, or even understand what the hell Diaz’s recipe sheet is going on about. It’s all garbage.” Bruce chomps down the dry toast, sliding himself onto a stool. 

“I’ll go.”

The whole room turns quickly in surprise at the sound of Peter’s voice. Tony immediately puts down his coffee mug, ready to move, but then stops. He doesn’t even know what he’d been about to move  _ for. _

He looks at Peter, runs his eyes up and down his body , checking every inch of it. The sweatpants he’s wearing look grubby, the white tank top stained with god knows what, his hair has definitely seen better days and there’s huge dark circles under his eyes. His skin looks washed out, grey, and Tony bites his tongue when he sees the slowly healing knuckles on Peter’s fists. Looks like he got into a fight with a wall and the wall won.

“Absolutely not,” Tony says with a snort. “Look at yourself. I’ve seen aliens more human-looking than you right now.” 

Peter meets his eyes with a blank stare and it’s jarring for Tony, to see such emptiness in them. No light at all. He doesn’t smile.

“I wasn’t asking for permission,” He says evenly, stepping further into the room. “I need to carry on the fight.”

Tony picks up his mug again and takes a mouthful, accidentally burning his mouth a little. “Well, that’s great and all, but one; your suit is still being fixed by yours truly and two; the last time you got near a bad guy you snapped his neck, so no. I’m not gonna let you go on a killing spree.”

Steve and Bruce’s mouth hang open at Tony’s lack of tact and even Peter’s face actually shows an inch of emotion; confusion, guilt, anger.

“Tony…” Steve warns, stepping forwards and placing a hand on his shoulder. Tony shrugs it off.

“No, no, you know what? That’s enough,” He puts the mug back down on the counter and starts walking towards Peter. “You lost someone, you killed someone. Fine. You can grieve however the hell you want, feel guilty, tear yourself apart. Because god knows, we’ve all done it.” He gestures to everyone in the room. “You know Hawkeye? Clint? He’s dead. Nat’s closest friend. Steve? Bucky still hasn’t woken up. His best friend, soul mate, I’m not even sure anymore. Vision? He lost Wanda. She’s out there, somewhere, but whether she’s alive or dead, we don’t know. And do I even have to bring up Nebula? She helped me get off an alien planet, saved my life more times than some of the guys in this room. And she’s dead too. We all grieved, we all got over it. Together.” Tony’s in Peter’s face and he can’t take it, can’t stop the words spewing from his mouth, because he needed Peter to get a hold of himself, to let everyone take care of him. “You see these hands?” Tony lifts his hands up and puts them on either side of Peter’s face firmly, holding his head tightly. “They’ve killed more people than you can possibly imagine. And I have guilt, so much it feels like I’m suffocating, but the people in this building, the people out there saving innocent lives, they make it easier. You have to let us make it easier for you too. That’s what being an Avenger is about.”

Peter’s blank eyes are slowly blinking back into life, filling with unshed tears, and it’s almost like that day when Peter had first come to the Tower and woken up to see Tony Stark standing next to him - his eyes are filled with awe and hope.

“Okay,” Peter says bluntly, moving back from Tony and letting his hands fall from his face. He sniffs and wipes the back of his hand across his nose, but no tears fall. “Okay, I’ll… I’ll try.” And for the first time in a week and a half, he passes Tony a tiny smile and then walks away, back towards his room.

Tony’s stunned. He stands there, watching Peter leave. He’d expected a punch, or a kick, or a slap, or even for Peter to stamp his feet and storm off like he always did when Tony confronted him. A hand on his shoulder draws his attention away and Steve’s grinning at him like he’s just done something incredible. 

“Good job,” He says, patting Tony once on the back before walking away too, taking a seat in the lounge. Banner throws him a thumbs up from the kitchen counter. 

“A bucket of dirt polishing a diamond, huh?” Tony whirls around and sees MJ standing near the door to the elevator, leaning against it like she’d been there a while, her arms folded across her chest and a small smile on her lips.

“What just happened?” He points in the direction Peter walked away in. “He listened to me.”

“It’s funny what a little pep talk from the guy you love can do for you,” MJ walks over to Tony and raises a hand for him to high-five her. He obliges, though he’s still trying to figure out the situation.

“You keep saying that, but I don’t think it means what you think it means,” He replies, shaking himself out of his trance. MJ throws him a confused glance as she walks over to the kitchen and Tony follows.

“‘Love’? Oh, I’m pretty sure I know what it means. You telling me Peter’s done  _ nothing  _ that might have even given you a  _ teeny weeny  _ hint? I mean, he’s useless at hiding secrets.” MJ raises an eyebrow at Tony, who looks down at the counter, where he’s awkwardly tapping his fingers on the marble top. His mind sends him briefly back to the lab, before the fight, before everything had gone to crap and he remembers his hands in Peter’s hair, the small sound he’d made against his lips--

Tony clears his throat and opens his mouth to reply, but MJ lets out a bark of laughter and claps her hands together once.

“Oh my god, something happened, didn’t it? You’re just as easy to read as Peter, honestly, you two.” She shakes her head and takes a sip of her coffee before placing it next to her, hoisting herself up onto the counter next to Tony. “Spill.”

Tony rolls his eyes and turns away from her to pick up his own mug and take a drink.

“I’m a forty year old man, I don’t gossip. Sorry to disappoint.” 

“What was it? A hug?” MJ watches his face carefully and it’s making Tony uncomfortable, but he doesn’t want to look away. “A peck on the cheek?” Tony examines his nails thoughtfully. She leans closer. “A  _ kiss?” _

He knows his expression didn’t change, because he’s mastered the art of hiding how he’s feeling, thanks to many, many years in front of the cameras. But MJ still lets out a laugh and claps her hands together again.

“You  _ did!  _ You totally did. Ugh, I knew it.”

“How are you doing that?” Tony waves a finger in her direction, narrowing his eyes at her. “You some kind of mind-reader?”

MJ shrugs. “I’m just very observant.”

Tony looks away into the distance thoughtfully. “Hm.”

“Don’t change the subject, I wanna know how the smooching session went down--”

“When Nat gets back, I’m gonna set an appointment with her for you. I think whatever it is you got going on in that ‘observant’ brain of yours needs to be tested.” Tony interrupts her and yes, it’s partly so she’ll stop bringing up the one memory that’s been haunting Tony since the fight, but also because  _ no one _ had been able to read him as easily as she had in that half a second.

MJ shrugs again in reply, taking a gulp from her mug, and kicks her feet against the doors of the cupboard, eyes twinkling at him.

“Right, bathroom break,” Tony says, patting MJ once on the leg before walking away.

“Nah, you’re going to see Peter.” MJ’s voice shouts after him and Tony’s feet stops momentarily before carrying on.  _ Witchcraft. _

-x-

He does go to see Peter, but only to press his ear against his door in a way that was  _ totally  _ creepy, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He can hear the en-suite shower running in the distance and he smiles to himself, moving away and walking towards his lab. 

He stops when Kate comes out of a door nearby and starts walking towards him. She looks almost as bad as Peter, her long black hair greasy, face gaunt and eyes bloodshot, baggy jumper and leggings looking overworn. It takes a long time for her to notice him and when she does, her feet slow to a stop in front of him. She just stands there, looking at him with sad eyes.

He doesn’t know why he does it; he doesn’t even know this girl, has barely said more than two words to her since she’d been frequenting the tower. But he moves forwards and pulls her into a hug. She stands still for an embarrassing amount of time before she raises her tiny hands to Tony’s back, holding tight.

“I’m sorry,” Tony murmurs, “And please don’t tell any of the others that I did this, or they’re all going to want a hug from the great Tony Stark.”

A bit of hope blooms in his chest when she lets out a little laugh against his t-shirt, pulling away with a tiny smile on her lips. She looks up at him with bright eyes.

“I can see why Peter likes you,” She says in a small voice. Then she nods her head once at him and walks past, heading towards the elevator. Tony watches her leave, frowning.  _ Just how many people in the tower thinks Peter has a thing for him?  _

He shakes his head and heads into his lab.

-x-

It’s two days before Tony sees Peter again and it’s in the last place he expects. He walks into the lab and sees him hunched over his Spiderman suit wearing a baggy black hoodie with the sleeves pulled up over his hands, hood up over his head. He’s got tools laid out and he’s tweaking and dismantling parts.

“Hi, Mr Stark,” Peter says in a quiet voice as he walks in, but he doesn’t look up to greet him. Tony pats him on the back as he passes but says nothing, leaving him to work in silence. He gets to work on his own project and they sit in the lab for the whole day together, not saying a word.

-x-

It carries on like that for a few more days, until he finally sees Peter walk into the lounge in his training gear - tight grey tank top and sweatpants - and he joins them wordlessly. MJ leaves Tony’s side to go and sit next to him, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him into her side in casual hug.

They carry on their night as usual, but Tony can’t keep his eyes from darting over to Peter every few minutes, heart pounding in his chest.

-x-

“I took that out of the programming  _ days  _ ago,” Ned says to Tony, pointing a finger at the missing code. Tony puts down his screwdriver and gives Ned a  _ look. _

“Why?”

“Because the UI was cluttered and unhelpful. You think Peter wants to be cycling through a hundred options in the middle of a fight? Voice activation makes so much more sense.” Ned shrugs and puts his hands behind his head.

“Can’t you go back to being scared in my presence? That was a lot more refreshing,” Tony grumbles, running a hand over his face, because Ned’s right, and it both impresses him and annoys him. “Aren’t you supposed to be at college? Things to learn, girls to woo, whatever it is you do.”

Ned grins at him. “Summer break. Our professors said we can work through last semester's work and submit it to them over the break, special circumstances and all that.”

Tony sighs and stares at the pages of code in front of him, then waves a hand. “Fine, have at it. Do your thing.” Ned whispers a small ‘yes’ in victory and sets to work, tapping away on the keyboard.

Tony picks up Peter’s ball and leans back in his chair, feet up on the desk, and starts tossing it into the air. 

He didn’t want to admit it but he was slowly starting to get used to having Peter’s friends around the tower. Steve, Natasha and Bruce were always switching between the compound and small missions, but his friends were a constant at the tower, always making it feel more full of life. Even Kate, who was still in heavy grief, had enough presence to make Tony feel that little less alone.

He’d been seriously considering offering them a permanent spot. They were all young, but they had so much potential - MJ with her knack for reading people, perfect in an interrogation or for recon and Ned, brilliant with programming and an insane amount of courage. Kate had no outstanding skills, other than her skills in biochem, but she was alone. A sick mother, no brother - Tony swallows at that - and no support system. A couple of years with Nat and she could very well be a trained agent. 

But he wasn’t going to mention it to any of them, not until Peter was better, not until he knew what they wanted.

The door to the lab opens and Tony tilts his head. He immediately straightens up and places the ball onto his desk, getting to his feet. Peter walks in, a small smile on his lips when he sees Ned tapping away next to Tony.

“Replacing me, Mr Stark?” He says and he’s looking better.  _ So  _ much better. It’s been almost a month since the funeral and the light in Peter’s eyes is slowly returning. Tony’s missed him. He missed the Peter from before the fight; before he experienced the loss of another person who was close to him; before he killed.

And he knew what it meant. The empty space in his chest which felt so full when Peter was around him. Even when they were fighting, eyes on fire and voices raised, he’d felt it. But the last month of emptiness from Peter had made Tony feel like he was missing a piece of himself.

Peter Parker walking through that door with a smile, immediately filling that void, could only mean one thing.

Tony Stark was in love with Spiderman.


	16. Chapter 16

Peter knows something’s wrong with Tony. He doesn’t know what it is but it’s making him leave the room whenever Peter enters, or ignoring his presence entirely.

Peter’s healing, slowly, and Tony had been the anchor for that, as had the other Avengers. He’d stopped staying up all night with Kate, who was suffering right along with him, and had actually managed to fall asleep by himself for the first time in over a month. His appetite had returned and the crippling guilt that made his entire body feel as heavy as stone was beginning to lighten enough so he could breathe normally again.

And just as he had begun to get better, Tony seemed to avoid him.

Peter walks into the lounge, smiles at MJ and Ned who are trying to paint Steve’s nails in red, white and blue, and then spots Tony who throws him a slightly-panicked stare before standing up to leave. He walks out, throwing Peter a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and seemed painfully forced. 

Peter goes over to the couches and throws himself into one, disappointment etched into his face. MJ sends him a cautious glance, putting the lid back on the red nail polish.

“Sup, Parker. You two have another fight?”

“No-- No, see that’s just it, we haven’t done  _ anything _ . He’s just ignoring me!” Peter bursts out, putting his elbows on his knees and wrapping his fingers into his hair. “Ugh.”

“He’s probably just having a Tony Meltdown. They happen every now and then. It’s not you,” Steve says, examining his fingernails. His index fingers have the Captain America shield painted on them, with the others alternating between blue with white stars, or white with blue stars. “This looks pretty good.”

“MJ’s got natural artistic hands,” Ned comments, grinning. MJ’s frowning at Steve.

“No, it’s definitely Peter. He sat and watched three hours of the Great British Bake Off with me yesterday,  _ willingly _ . You sure you haven’t said anything?” MJ narrows her eyes at Peter. Peter looks offended.

“Hey! You’re supposed to be backing me up here. I promise, hand on heart, I’ve done nothing.” Peter sighs and leans forwards, putting his head back into his hands. MJ shuffles over with her tiny box of nail polish - natural, not-tested-on-animals, expensive stuff - and pulls one of Peter’s hands towards her.

“Hm,” She says thoughtfully, dipping the brush into the pot before applying some of the polish to Peter’s nail. “I think I know what it is.”

Peter lifts his other hand away from his face, looking at her in wonder. “Really? You need to tell me what it is so I can fix it, please. This is driving me mad.” 

MJ purses her lips, focusing on the spider web she’s painting onto Peter’s nail in front of her. 

“It’s not really my place,” she says eventually, finishing Peter’s thumb. She gestures at him and Peter’s other hand automatically lifts into hers, though he’s not even focused on what she’s doing in front of him.

“‘Not your place’? What happened to bros before other bros,” He replies, frowning at her. She sends him a smirk. 

“Because I’m not poking my nose into it. You want to find out what’s up with him? How about you go and ask.” 

Peter hums thoughtfully. MJ blows across all of his nails and puts the bottles of quick-drying nail polish away, clapping him on the leg before standing up. She leaves Peter sitting on the coach, debating with himself whether or not he should go down to the lab - most probably where Tony had ran off to - or just wait it out.

He looks down at his nails, admiring MJ’s work, and then freezes. On his left hand, she’s painted his nails red, a black web on his middle finger and the Spiderman mask on his index finger. But on the other hand, she’s painted them red and gold, with Iron Man’s face on his middle finger and a golden heart on the index. 

He lets out a small laugh, looking up at MJ’s retreating back, grin spreading wider and wider. He stands up.

He was going to talk to Tony.

-x-

Peter doesn’t even have to go all the way down the lab. He’s waiting for the elevator, mind running through a hundred different ways to talk to Tony, when the doors open and the man himself is standing there. And,  _ damn it,  _ the moment Tony sees him, he presses a button, trying to close the doors again. Peter swipes a hand between them, pushing them open, and leans over to flip the emergency switch.

The doors lock open and he walks in with purpose, eyes not leaving Tony’s.

“You’re avoiding me,” He says bluntly. Tony crosses his arms across his chest and lets out a very fake snort of disbelief.

“I don’t avoid people; they avoid me.” So he was going to deflect everything he said and turn into banter. Of course. Peter looks down at his feet, losing a tiny bit of courage, and clenches his fist.

“You told me-- You said you’d help me. And you all have, as much as you can. And I’m glad for that. But if I’ve done anything, said anything--”

“It’s not you.” Peter snaps his gaze to Tony’s. He’s looking at him, almost sad, and he looks  _ tired. _

“It  _ is. _ ” Peter says, “Whenever I walk into a room you walk out! Of course it’s me--”

“I  _ mean,”  _ Tony steps towards him, “I’m trying to put some space between us. But it’s not because of anything you’ve done; it’s on me.”

Peter looks at him in confusion, a frown crinkling his brow. He pulls his hoodie sleeves over his hands - a subconscious movement he did when he was worried. 

“I don’t understand.”

“And that’s fine, just understand that I’ve got to do this and leave it be.” Tony leans over to start the elevator again, but Peter’s hand is faster. He wraps his fingers around Tony’s wrist, walking forwards to put himself between the panel and Tony. 

“Please, Tony,” He says, and the use of his name makes Tony lose some of his resolve. Peter moves closer, fingers still wrapped around Tony’s wrist. He watches Tony’s throat bob as he swallows, hesitant, stares at the stubble decorating his jawline, falls on his lips, which Tony’s biting at nervously.

“Don’t do that,” Tony whispers in the heavy air, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Peter replies, just as quiet, not taking his eyes from Tony’s lips, watching them move as he breathed, spoke, nibbled. And  _ god  _ he’s not stupid, his body’s flushing with heat, mind focused on one thing: Tony’s lips on his.

_ Oh. _

“You know what.” But Tony’s contradicting himself, moving closer to Peter and with one glance to Tony’s face, Peter confirms it. Because Tony looks like he wants to  _ consume  _ him. 

Tony’s pushing, closer and closer, until he’s crowded Peter up against the wooden interior of the elevator, taking his wrist out of Peter’s grip to place his hands either side of him. Peter sucks in a breath when Tony dips his head, mouth brushing the sensitive skin of his neck.

“ _ Fuck,  _ kid, I can’t--” Tony rolls his forehead onto Peter’s shoulder and they stand like that for a moment. A moment too long. Peter can’t wait, he’s waited  _ long enough,  _ and he pushes Tony away. There’s a second of fear and rejection in Tony’s face before Peter’s grips Tony’s t-shirt and pulls him back down. 

Despite Peter’s strength, Tony manages to stop right before their mouths touch. Their lips are  _ so  _ close, brushing against each other with every breath.

“This is a real bad idea,” Tony murmurs, eyes cast downwards at Peter’s lips. It sends a shiver down Peter’s spine, because he can feel the words on his mouth. Tony’s hands come up to Peter’s hips and his thumbs poke up underneath his hoodie to brush against his bare skin. Peter draws in a breath, heat shooting out from the point of contact.

“Since when did that matter to you?” Peter replies hoarsely, moving his hand from where it’s bunched up in Tony’s shirt to meet his other, cupping Tony’s face. “Let me be one more bad idea. Please.”

And Tony caves. He inches forwards that tiny distance and takes Peter’s bottom lip in his. Peter’s legs almost give out, despite the kiss being so soft and tender. They’re still for a moment, lips pressed together, until Tony moves his head further to the side, grip tightening on Peter’s hips. Then he teases Peter’s mouth open and licks his way inside. Peter’s vaguely aware of a whimper emerging from his own throat, because Tony’s tongue brushes his and he feels the shocks right down to his toes. He moves his hands, wrapping them around Tony’s body to pull him closer, go deeper, his nails digging into Tony’s shoulder blades.

It earns him a muffled moan and then Tony’s pushing in harder, hands coming up to Peter’s hair and pulling and tugging, dipping his head for a better angle, brushing his tongue across the top of Peter’s lip before withdrawing for a moment, only to turn his head the other way and go right back in. His teeth nibble at Peter’s bottom lip, his tongue swiping across it before finding Peter’s mouth again.

It’s wet and dirty and Peter’s kinda freaking out about the whole thing because he’s never, ever felt this much in his entire life. Tony pulls their mouths apart, letting them both breathe, but sinks his head down to Peter’s neck, biting and sucking and Peter can’t help himself - he places his hands on Tony’s ass and pushes their groins together. Their moans echo in the elevator and Tony swears under his breath, running his lips up to Peter’s ear.

“Do that again,” he whispers and  _ fuck  _ Peter doesn’t have to be asked twice.

He flips Tony round, pressing him against the wall and takes his face in his hands, the Spiderman and Iron Man nail polish glistening in the fluorescent light. He pushes their foreheads together and rolls his hips, tasting the groan that Tony lets out. He can’t stop himself; he shoves his lips to Tony’s, twines his fingers into Tony’s hair, moves so close they could almost be one person--

“Fuck!” 

Peter immediately jumps away from Tony and panic hits him in the chest. Standing at the door to the elevator is Steve Rogers, frozen in place, staring at the two of them like they’d both grown a second head. Peter was sure they looked a sight; their clothes askew, hair sticking up in all sorts of direction, Peter with bites and marks all down his neck.

“Language,” Tony says, and it’s surprising how smooth and normal it comes out, even if it is a bit breathless. Peter doesn’t trust himself to speak again for at least five minutes.

“What…” Steve trails off, “What the hell is going on?”

Peter hopes, with everything in his being, that Tony can level the situation, come up with some weird excuse. Because he didn’t even know what was going on.

“Just so you know, I said it was a bad idea, but I was persuaded otherwise.”  _ Right, thanks, Mr Stark. _

“Peter?” Steve asks, voice higher than usual. But it’s not accusatory, more like he’s asking if Peter is okay, like  _ that  _ was a question he could answer right now. Peter clears his throat and pulls the sleeves of his hoodie further over his hands.

“Well-- I mean-- I  _ did _ ask for it.” Peter winces at his choice of words. “Mr Rogers-- Steve-- I’m really sorry about this.” Then he walks forwards and pushes Steve backwards into the corridor, making him stumble over, and he flips the emergency switch, closing the doors of the elevator. They’re shut before Steve can get to his feet.

There’s a minute of silence between Tony and Peter, where neither of them quite know what to say, and it’s the longest minute of Peter’s life.

“He’s going to kill us,” Tony murmurs. Peter catches Tony’s eye and he can’t help it; he grins, and then Tony grins back. 

“That was a really bad idea,” Peter replies, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. Tony hums in agreement, but now he’s looking at Peter, neither of them can take their eyes away from each other. Without saying a word, Tony leans forwards and presses the button for the floor with his bedroom on.

“I think we need to talk.”

-x-

Tony walks into his bedroom, Peter following behind him. He’s a fucking mess; he can’t decide whether he feels like he’s walking on clouds or if it feels like he’s swallowed a boulder. Because even though he smiles and jokes, he  _ knows. _ He knows that the feeling of Peter’s lips on his can’t happen, he knows he can’t run his hands through his hair.

Peter was half his age; Peter was going through too much; Peter didn’t deserve the baggage that Tony came with.  _ Peter, Peter, Peter.  _ He just couldn’t.

The door closes behind Peter, the beep indicating it had locked. Tony doesn’t turn around to look at him.

“Look, Peter--”

“Don’t.” Peter cuts in. “Don’t even start. I know you, Tony. I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong, about all of it.” He can hear Peter’s footsteps behind him, getting closer and closer.

“You’ve got no idea.”

“Yeah, yeah, I kinda do actually.” Peter’s hand grabs his elbow and flips him round, gaze determined and hard. His lips are still a little swollen. “Age? Past? Baggage? Guess what, Mr Stark. That’s bullshit.”

“Langua--”

“Will you stop joking, for one minute?!” Peter almost shouts. He still hasn’t taken his hand off of Tony’s elbow. Tony swallows, running his hand through his hair and he tries to tear his eyes away, but they’re straight back on Peter. “We’ve both got baggage. We’ve both got a not-so-great past. We can carry on like we always have; getting each other through it.”

Tony squashes down the hope the words rise in his chest and chews on the inside of his cheek. He just stares at Peter for a moment, takes in his eyes, his cheekbones, his jawline, his mouth.

“You’re nineteen. I’m forty. You don’t understand how  _ wrong  _ that is?” Tony says and Peter doesn’t have a reply to it immediately. He just looks at Tony likes he’s stupid, which is  _ not  _ a look he’s used to.

“I don’t think that has anything to do with this. I think you’re afraid.”

“Of what, exactly?” Tony quips his head to the side, secretly enjoying the tiny fire rising in Peter. He really had a problem when it came to seeing Peter angry.

“Letting yourself have what you want,” Peter steps forwards, toe-to-toe with Tony, and Tony doesn’t move away even though every inch of him is telling him to. He closes his eyes, rubs his nose into the side of Peter’s head, smelling his hair. His hands dance around Peter’s waist, not quite touching, but  _ burning  _ to. Peter moves his head, so their mouths are almost touching. “Come on, Mr Stark.” He whispers.

His heart tightens, his resolve breaks and he gives in to his fear. His hands fly to Peter’s head and he holds him still, mouth covering his, and it’s  _ everything.  _ Peter, running his hands down his back and Tony, losing himself in the kiss.

He was going to let himself have this, he was going to be selfish, he was going to hold onto Peter Parker and never, ever let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue to go! Yep, this fic was such a slow burn they literally didn't get together until the very, very end. I'm sorry!!! (I'm bad at writing established relationships, so that's one reason I did it)
> 
> Can't wait to share the epilogue with you, it's pure fluff. It'll be up tomorrow!


	17. Chapter 17

When they walk into the lounge that evening, Peter’s nervous.  _ Really  _ nervous. 

He doesn’t know if Steve has blabbed; he didn’t know how to act around Tony after they’d spent all day in his bedroom, cuddled up in his bed, talking and laughing and just being  _ them _ .

He passes a knowing glance to Tony, who walks in with him, unable to hold the grin he passes back. It was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

MJ’s lounging on the sofa, feet propped up in Natasha’s lap, switching between debating with Bruce and tapping away on her phone. Ned’s got a chess game going on the other end of the corner sofa, cross-legged, facing Steve, who’s in a similar position and frowning at the board in front of him. Kate’s sitting in the armchair, knees pulled up and arms huddling them closer, watching them all with a small smile on her face.

None of them look up when Tony and Peter walk in, and it’s so weird, looking at a scene that was so familiar, and yet everything felt different. Tony’s finger brushes against his and then he takes Peter’s index finger in his and squeezes it lightly before walking in.

When Steve spots them he scuffles to his feet, chess game forgotten, and gives them a hard, Captain America stare. Tony snorts and ignores him, making his way over the bar, but the look makes Peter a bit nervous. He throws him a cautious smile and a little wave.

“Peter,” He says, and it’s obvious he wants to say more, but he holds himself back. Peter’s glad for it - quite frankly, whatever he and Tony did in their spare time was none of his business.

Peter approaches the rest of the group, throwing himself into the two-seater couch opposite the busy sofa and it’s so, so hard to wipe the smile off his face. He can still feel Tony’s stubble on his jaw, the feeling of his lips on his neck, his chest, his thighs, his mouth around his--

“You totally did it, didn’t you?” 

Peter breaks out his daydream, face flushed, and looks straight at MJ. She’s grinning at him and he’s pretty sure he’s never seen her look so happy. He coughs and looks down at his feet, ignoring Steve’s unrelenting gaze on the side of his head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about--” 

“Oh, can it, Parker. You’re crap at lying,” She takes her feet off of Natasha’s lap, and Peter realises their conversation has the attention of the entire room. “You both finally realised it, huh?”

This was it. He met the gaze of everyone in the room, swallowed, and then nodded, a grin breaking out across his face.

“What are we talking about?” Bruce asks, looking over the top of his glasses between Peter and MJ. Peter’s face warms and he vaguely registers Tony coming up to his side. He puts his glass on the coffee table, then Tony throws Bruce a smirk.

“This.” And then he bends forwards and presses a soft kiss to Peter’s lips, hand curled around his neck. And god, they’d kissed so much their lips were sore but even still, it sends shivers down Peter’s spine. The room is quiet, except for MJ’s whooping, which makes Peter smile into Tony’s mouth and break away, grinning up at him.

“Well, I didn’t expect that. I think I need to retire as a spy, I’m clearly losing it,” Nat quips, eyes twinkling at the both of them. 

“Peter, Tony,” Bruce is frowning, “I’m happy for you, I am - and I really wanna hear the story of how this came about because  _ what -  _ but have you thought this through? There’s--”

“Trust me, Banner, we’ve crossed every bridge you can think of. We’re letting ourselves have this,” Tony shuts him down and takes a seat next to Peter, glass in one hand and Peter’s hand in the other. He wraps their fingers around each other and Peter can’t help but just  _ stare  _ because Tony Stark was his. He was  _ his. _

Bruce’s answer is a shrug and he smiles at the two of them. “Whatever you want. Damn, I’m gonna be the third wheel in the lab now aren’t I?”

“I’m sure Ned will keep you company, he can be a fourth wheel, so to speak.” 

Ned’s still sitting in front of the chessboard, pawn in hand, frozen with his mouth open. Peter almost wants to laugh at the process of Ned’s brain taking everything in.

“Is this a joke?” He finally asks Peter. Peter shakes his head. “You-- So, first you get to stay in Stark Tower, then you become an Avenger, then you work with Tony Stark and now you’re in love Tony Stark and he loves you and you  _ kiss  _ now?” Ned finally sucks in a breath. “I’m so happy I want to cry.”

Peter barks out a laugh at that and even Tony’s sniggering next to him. His hand comes up to the back of Peter’s neck, stroking the skin there in small circles and Peter turns to look at him. He moves in closer, tucks himself into Tony’s side, and they look at each other. Neither of them have to speak, neither of them want to. It’s just them, in Stark Tower, with their friends and all the time in the world. 

“You know I’m scared to take the elevator now, right? I’ve been taking the stairs all day.” Steve Roger’s voice jerks them out of their silent conversation and Peter looks up at him. He doesn’t look concerned anymore - he’s smiling down at them, but it’s mainly aimed at Tony. “You serious about him?” He asks him.

Tony sends Peter a warm smile, fingers playing with the hair at the base of Peter’s neck. It makes Peter breathless, the look in his eyes, the admiration, happiness,  _ love.  _

“More serious than Iron Man.”

And that seems to satisfy Steve. He claps Peter on the shoulder, bumps Tony’s knee with his, and walks over to the bar. 

“Wait,” MJ calls out after him. “What’s the deal with elevator?”

And then Peter’s shouting over Steve trying to get him to keep quiet, but Steve’s shouting the story even louder over his protests, and Ned’s covering his face with his hands, Kate is grinning, and Tony’s laughing at Peter’s face so hard he’s wheezing. And even though there’s still grief in the air, even though they’re smiling and laughing with problems and hardships weighing them down, it feels nice, it feels almost perfect.

It feels like family.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally finished!!!
> 
> so this fic ended up being more about them all becoming a family than an actual starker fic so im gonna be writing one just focused on the two of them at some point
> 
> i hope u all enjoyed it!!
> 
> [tumblr](http://ironspi.tumblr.com)


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